Rescue Me
by DanDanger1
Summary: It was practical, she told herself. If one, or both, of them didn't end their mutually self-imposed misery, and soon, it would end. Badly. For both of them. But really, it was so much more than that. She was finally ready to be happy. But mostly, she was tired of running, tired of hiding. She was in love with Chuck Bartowski, and she knew exactly what she was going to do about it
1. Chuck vs The Decision

**Author's Note: Ok, guys, so this is going to be a relatively long AN, and hopefully it will be the longest on this story, but I figure in order to set this story up, its necessary. First of all, blanket general disclaimers, I don't own Chuck, bla bla bla. English is not my native language, in fact its my third language, and I learned Queen's English in school, so writing in the American terms for things can sometimes be hard for me. So if I get soemthing wrong just let me know and I'll do my best to fix it. **

**Okay, so I was re-discovering/binge watching Chuck over the past couple of weeks, and I'm glad that I did. Of course, that led to reading a lot of Chuck (Charah) fanfiction, particularly of the fluffy variety because let's face it, that show was brutal in throwing down the gauntlet in terms of will-they/won't-they and other types of relationship angst, amirite? I mean, we get it. Especially that finale, I just can't describe. Urgh. Anyway, that said, this time around, at least, I had the outlet of fanfiction and not only as a reader, but I decided to write as well (up until this point I've only published stories for Harry Potter and Glee, though I've also written as-yet-unpublished Doctor Who, Star Wars, and Indiana Jones stories as well), and this is the first chapter result of that.**

**This story is not going to feature relationship angst. At least, not a lot of it, certainly. I don't really like writing relationship angst, because I don't like reading it. I'd rather my stories get their drama/suspense from other means. Which is what this story will (Attempt to) do. This story's premise is what would happen if they both wised up and decided to act on their feelings earlier (i.e. early/mid series 2). What would happen if Sarah began to question her loyalty and attachment to the CIA in favour of Chuck? How would things pan out, how would things change, etc. Its AU because I don't feel like going in and going episode by episode and writing it like that, as it were, if you get what I mean, but I will make sure there's plenty of spy action and twists and turns with plenty of drama. But this story will be primarily a story about the relationship between Chuck and Sarah, and their wider circle of friends/family, and I'm hoping to have a nice mix between cavity-inducing sweet fluffiness, external drama, and humour/comdey. Also, one thing I'd like to note that is that I am not opposed to readers suggesting ideas for furthering the plot – I may not use them, but even if I don't, feel free to make suggestions, maybe your suggestions will inspire something else, etc. **

**Some readers will I'm sure point out the similarity of this idea, and this first chapter in particular, to BillAtWork's story "the real relationship", and this is true. This is intentional. BillAtWork is one of my favourite Chuck fanfic writers, and I hope that this story will be seen as an...homage, of sorts, to that story/story arch, but I'm sure it will be unique enough and different enough in the coming chapters to be read on its own merits, firstly, and not be taken down by the mods, secondly. And yes, before anyone says anything, I know that I've altered the S2 timeline a bit to fit my story. That's one of the reasons why this story is AU. Deal with it. **

**Also just a quick content note: I write stories containing adult themes, indended for adult, or at least appropriately mature, audiences. That is why they are rated M. I'll never write smut, so you don't have to worry about that, but if curse words, sometimes gratuitous amounts, frank, adult perspectives on sex, drugs and alcohol use, then perhaps this story isn't for you.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story, happy reading, and remember: comments are love.**

**Rescue Me**

**Chuck vs The Decision**

It was practical, she told herself. If one, or both, of them didn't end their mutually self-imposed misery, and soon, it would end. Badly. For both of them. And that would put a damper on the operational efficiency of Team Bartowski. But really, it was so much more than that. She was finally ready to be happy. To allow her some semblance of normalcy, of happiness, of something resembling the life she had wanted when she was a little girl, because damn it, she deserved it. But mostly, she was sick and tired. She was sick and tired of waiting around. Sick and tired of the longing, the desire, the hiding behind walls of professionalism, of the heartache and the jealousy. She was also sick and tired of being used as a weapon, of The Company seeing her as a pawn in a chessboard, as little more than a pension ID number in an office server in Langley, and not a person, and she was sick and tired of seeing them trying to do the same thing to Chuck. _Her_ Chuck. She was sick and tired of being sick and tired. And for good or bad, whether the outcome was the one she was hoping for or not, it was going to end. Tonight. He had brought her gardenias, after all. She was in love with Chuck Bartowski, and she knew _exactly_ what she was going to do about it.

It was strange, to say the least, the situation she found herself in. A little over 18 months ago, if anyone had even hinted at the suggestion that she would even _entertain_ the thought of doing what she was going to do – or even half the things she and Chuck had already done – for anything other than a cover, or a mission in someway, she would have thought of some very inventive ways to inflict pain. She was hard-as-nails, Agent Walker, Director Graham's Enforcer. She didn't get sentimental. She didn't get attached. She would never emotionally comprimise herself or the mission – that's how missions failed and how spies wound up dead. And she was a spy. The consummate professional, married to the job, giving up her happiness for the greater good. It was an important job that needed to be done, even if it wasn't always the most savoury. But she didn't have a problem with that.

That was, until she met Chuck. To be honest, she didn't know exactly how or when it happened. It certainly wasn't some instantaneous lightbulb moment or anything. Yes, there were some "lightbulb moments" where, a different version of her, in a different time or a different place might have gone weak in the knees. Even that first day, when he told that little girl that all real ballerinas were tall, just to make her feel better. He was so kind. But she was Agent Walker. And she had a job to do.

But he wore her down. It wasn't something that happened consciously, she thought. She didn't even think he knew, consciously, what he was doing. Yes, he found her attractive and wanted more than she was giving him – especially at first when they were trying to find a professional rhythm – that was certainly true, and not even he would deny it, she was sure. After all, she was certainly not blind, and he wasn't subtle. But he hadn't set out to consciously wear her down, he wasn't trying to actively seduce her, to get in her pants. That was part of why it worked so well – he was just being himself. He was just trying to honestly, legitimately get to know her. As a person. Whatever he did, it was honest and sincere; even after she had made herself clear that their cover was just that, and building up her defencive walls, her professional distance, he still tried.

Even though he ostensibly knew, for all intents and purposes, she would never be able to give him what he really wanted, he didn't shut down. He didn't become a different person behind closed doors, when their covers came down. Well, that wasn't completely true; behind closed doors, if that was even possible, he became even better. Sweeter. Kinder. More attentive. More open. He not only noticed, but remembered her preferences: vegetarian pizza, no olives; when they ordered chinese, he knew she preferred noodle based, rather than rice based dishes, and preferred shrimp and pork to chicken or beef; she liked French white wine, and Argentinian reds, but was actually a simple girl at heart and preferred beer to wine when she didn't have to keep up appearances; he knew that gardenias were her favourite; he remembered her tastes in movies, books and tv, and even helped to expand her horizons; he cared about her thoughts and values and opinions, who she was as a person.

To him, she wasn't just Agent Walker, nor was she just a pair of tits in a dress. He tried to get to know her as human being, which was something not a lot of people had ever done, and nobody had even tried to do in a long, long time. He treated her like an individual. He treated her like a person who had value; whose opinions, ideas, likes and dislikes, and most importantly, feelings, were important, and which he made the effort to learn and know.

He made her feel welcome, both in LA as a whole and in his world. He invited her into his world, his weird, entirely-too-nerdy and strange world with which she was wholly unfamiliar and in many ways, she thought, woefully unprepared to navigate safely. But, figuratively at least, he never left her side. He had helped her navigate in his world – the real world, a world where things weren't ruled by shadows and deceit and never being able to trust anyone but yourself. It was a world where people had roots. They trusted each other. They had emotional attachments: families, friends, coworkers, social groups. It was a world she had been so far removed from for so long that she had forgotten, almost, that it had existed, let alone how to a part of it. Yet he stood by her the whole way, holding her hand, leading the way; and she had let him. Now, she had been accepted his friends, by his family, by Ellie and Awesome. By Morgan. By the Buy Morons. She had forgotten what this kind of life, this kind of existence felt like, let alone the fact that she had, buried deep in the deepest, darkest corners of her heart, buried under all her father's cons and her CIA training, the fact that this was the kind of life she had once hoped for. Normal, and happy.

She had also gotten to know him. Him, for who he was, the _real_ Charles Irving Bartowski. Not as the intersect, but as a person. She had gotten to know his likes and dislikes, his opinions, his values. Even some of his hopes and dreams. She had been regailed about countless stories of his and Morgan's adventures growing up, as well as stories about when he was younger, growing up, especially when it was just him and Ellie. Sometimes, even, the occasional Princeton story, though they were both wary to breach that topic because of the wounds it tended to open when they did. Though when he did tell her stories of Princeton, regailing her about how Bryce and he spent two months speaking to each other only in Klingon, it certainly showed a side to both of them that she had not previously expected, and it made her happy that he let her in. And the music. Ever since joining the CIA, she had had very little time to just sit, and relax, and listen to music. She had thought she had lost that part of herself, but Chuck being Chuck had refused to let that be the case and had reintroduced her to music with that nerdy, over-excited fervour that only he had. He had re-introduced her to something she had loved, and lost, and now found again, in the process introducing her to musical tastes and experiences she never would have had otherwise. Arcade Fire's first album. Nina Simone. So many others, as well. It was just one of the many reasons why she loved him.

He let her know him, who he really was. In her world, the spy world, everything about a person's past was either a liability or a fabrication, so she wasn't used to knowing much about people. Even some of the people she was closest to, in that world, she knew precious little about, in terms of who they _were_ as people. But not Chuck, not in Chuck's world. Chuck was open with her more than anyone else had ever been; he answered her questions, let get to know him, who he really was, as a person. She learned the things that made him tick, his likes, his dislikes (the top of the list included Bryce Larkin, brussel sprouts, and people that wore their phones on a belt clip like they thought they were some kind of big shot), his fears, his desires, what made him tick. He let her in, and he was _honest_ with her, about who he was, and let her in as much or as little as she wanted. And for some reason, with him, she constantly wanted more.

She could never be accused of being too communicative, or too clingy, or too emotional. She was never the touchy-feely, I-want-to-know-everything-about-you type of person, even for someone...well, someone who she felt about like she felt about Chuck. No, the criticisms that could more easily be hurled in her direction were cold, uncommunicative, distant, detached. But for some reason, with Chuck, she always wanted more. Always wanted to know more, to see more, to be included. Of course, she couldn't say she knew everything about him, or even really anywhere near it. In the past 18 months that they had spent together, she had just scratched the surface of getting to know more things about him, but she could say, with some confidence that, even after only this span of time, she knew who he _was_.

And then there was his eyes. Those deep, warm, friendly brown eyes that were so expressive that she continually found herself getting lost in them. To the point where it was starting to be problematic, and was having to avoid looking directly into his eyes when they were briefing, or working on mission stuff. Or the way his hair curled around his ears and she just wanted to run her fingers through it. Or the way his nose crinkled when he smiled, which, speaking of, was just so uniquely Chuck, she thought if she ever saw anyone else give her the same crooked half-smile that he did, she would think of suing for copyright infringement. Or the way that when he smiled at her, he made her stomach do uncomfortable loop-de-loops as it filled with butterflies and his touch, no matter how slight, could set her heart on fire, even for something simple and platonic, like when he brought her to the beach in Malibu and they sat cross-legged facing each other playing the hand-slapping game, and making simple, pleasant conversation, until the sun went down.

No, all of these were certianly things that, not very long ago at all, Agent Sarah Walker would have scoffed at the very idea of any of it. But 18 months was a long time, and Chuck had gotten to her. He had worn her down, even if – especially because – he had not actually intended to do so. She was in love with Chuck Bartowski, and she knew _exactly_ what she had to do about it.

Of course she knew she _shouldn't_ be doing this. All her spy insticnts were telling her – yelling at her even – to stop. To run away. To patch up all the holes in her walls which had been tumbling down into barely more than rubble over the past five hundred or so days. Ask for a reassignment, even, if necessary. They told her she needed to remain professional, that she can't get attached. She shouldn't let him get attached. That hurting him – hurting _them_ – a little bit now would be preferrable to them both being hurt, so much worse or even worse, killed, later on down the road. That it would be cruel to get either of their hopes up. And she knows that, from a spy perspective, they're right. Her instincts as an agent are highly tuned after intensive training and years in the field, coupled with her own natural instinct which she developed over years and years running cons with her father. The problem is, they're just that. Spy senses. But she doesn't listen to her spy senses, because she doesn't want to think about this like a spy. She doesn't listen to her spy senses because, she doesn't want to look at this from the perspective of Agent Walker, CIA Operative; she wants to look at it from the perspective of Sarah Walker, the person. And besides, even if she wanted to, she knew she was in far too deep now. He brought her gardenias. Her favourite. She had to stop pretending. They both had to stop pretending. And she needed to do it soon before Bryce Larkin could get his clutches into him.

And it wasn't like she wanted to just stop being an agent and run off or get married or anything. At least, not yet. She still had a lot of demons in her past, a lot of past to confront, a lot of growing to do. She still was nowhere near ready to be so completely open and vulnerable with anyone yet, even Chuck. She needed to be able to take things slow, to ease into this whole "commitment" and "normal relationship" thing. But she hoped that someday, with time, she would be. She knew that if she was going to be able to do that with anyone, it would be with Chuck. She also knew herself well enough to know that she was well past the point of no return here. This was no silly infatuation. She wouldn't even consider doing what she was considering, let alone blur the lines to the point which she already had, for some silly infatuation. She knew what she felt, and she knew it was real, and she knew – she didn't know _how_ she knew, but she did – that it was love. She wasn't saying she wanted to hop on the next train to Vegas to elope and get married by some Elvis impersonator or something; she knew that she still wanted to go slow...ish, and not rush into anything too fast. But she also knew how he made her feel, and that she couldn't go back to the way things were before. The Rubicon had been crossed. The die had been cast.

Of course, she _was_ still an agent, and she _liked_ being an agent. Mostly. Yes, she was recruited by Graham before she was even legally an adult, essentially under duress, and in a comprimised emotional state, having just seen her father getting arrested. It was a textbook recruitment. And yes, in her nearly ten years of service, she had done a lot of very unsavoury things that she liked – no, needed – to keep separate from who she was, as a person, in order to stay sane. She, as Agent Walker, had done a lot of very bad things in her past. But the thing was, as much as they haunted her, she knew that she had also done a lot of good – even if sometimes in order to do that good, she had to do bad, unsavoury things – for the _greater good_ just like it had been drilled into her since her recruitment. She had done dirty work in the shadows that others might live without fear. And she _had_ done good, and done it well. She had helped to prevent countless terrorist attacks, foiled numerous arms deals, and broken up so many drug and human trafficking rings that she had lost count. Those were all very, very good things, she reminded herself.

And before she had met Chuck, that would have been enough. More than enough, even. The personality she had cultivated first with her father, and then through spy training had made her the perfect agent; cool, detached, professional. It would have been enough to know that she had done well protecting innocent people for the greater good. But now, after she had met Chuck, after he had gotten under her skin and re-awoken something inside which she had thought was long, long gone, it no longer seemed enough. Wasn't she also a person? Wasn't she also deserving of some small shred of happiness? Of normalcy? She had sacrificed so much for her country, for the greater good, hadn't she earned a chance of a little happiness for herself? What good was the _greater good_ if she didn't feel any of it? If she got no chance to enjoy any of its benefits? If she lost all of her humanity by letting Graham and the CIA turn her into little more than a weapon, was it really enough? Before she had met Chuck, she would have absolutely answered that yes, it was. That was what her duty was, her role in life was going to be. Now, though, things had changed. Now, she wanted her life to mean something beyond a string of highly successful missions that no one could ever know about, and her death to mean something more than a few key strokes by an intern in the bowels of Langley to stop funds being paid into her pension. Now, that answer was very much different.

She did still want to be agent. At least for now. If for no other reason than Chuck still needed to be protected and who better than her to protect him? But the Company _had_ been good to her. What 28 year old from a broken home in San Diego could say that by age 25 she was fluent in six languages, and had been to most of the countries in Europe, Asia and the Middle East? Granted, she had usually gone to these places to kill someone, and that haunted her, but she had been doing her duty, what she had been trained to believe was the most important thing.

But now, things were much more complicated. And her feelings for Chuck – well, _their feelings for each other_, after all she wasn't blind; she knew, or at least had a very good idea, that her feelings were definitely reciprocated despite his attempts to pretend otherwise – was the cause. It had gotten to the point where they were starting to affect their work.

He hated being told to wait in the car, helpless when she put herself in harms way. She knew that was why he never stayed in the damn car when she told him to. She, likewise, hated that he needed constant protection because people were willing to kill him for the secrets that were downloaded – without his knowledge or choice in the matter – into his brain. She also hated the way everyone referred to him as "the intersect". He was a person, after all, not a machine. She smiled, laughing to herself, remembering when she told him how much she hated hearing people refer to him as just "the intersect". She had even showed how much she hated it by appealing to his geeky side, crying out, _"I'm a person, and my name is Anakin!"_. She remembered his eyes bugged out of his head slightly before he regained his composure enough to reply, _"Agent Walker, did you just quote Star Wars to me?"_. She had surprised him further by replying, _"No, Agent Walker did no such thing. But Sarah did just quote the worst of all the Star Wars movies, for the first and only time, so I hope you enjoyed it"_. And Chuck, amazing, sweet, wonderful Chuck told her that he barely even noticed, let alone cared anymore, that they referred to him as the intersect; but he _did_ care that it bothered her.

She hated how their covers were starting to be almost cruel, to both of them, at this point. Having to pretend to be in a relationship with the person they both _actually_ wanted to be, but knowing that it was only a cover and having to maintain a professional distance was probably one of the hardest things she had ever had to do, and she knew it was even harder on Chuck. He didn't have the training or the years cultivating the proper personality to be able to handle it like she did. If it was hurting her, it was _killing_ him. In addition to the fact that she never wanted to be the source of his pain, it was leading to confusion. The lines had been blurred too much already. It was getting hard for either of them to be able to separate what was real and what was cover; were they professional colleagues who kept professional distance with a _cover_ of being in love? Or were they lovers who maintained a _cover_ of a professional handler-asset relationship? It was getting hard to tell sometimes. True, they hadn't done anything – well, not much, anyway, and certainly not more than making out and heavy petting – to blur those lines _physically_, but emotionally, those lines had been blurred a long time ago.

She, at least, was a professional. As much at hurt her – and it did – and as much as she hated to see him during missions where he had to be Charles Carmichael, the suave, debonair personality that he used on missions when he had to get close to – to seduce – female marks, she could handle it. Barely. And she _did_ hate it. She hated seeing him like that. She hated seeing him cozying up to rich, well connected bad girls, running his fingers through _their_ hair, running his hands over _their_ shoulders and arms, and leading _them_ to the dance floor or hotel rooms with his hand gently on the small of _their_ backs; running his fingers through _their_ hair and whispering sweet nothings in _their_ ears; she hated it. She hated it all. And she was supposedly a professional. She _knew_ that he didn't mean any of it, that it was just a character, and he was just playing a role, turning a mark, getting what they needed. She _knew_. Hell, most of the time it was her idea to put him that situation – which she also knew he was extremely uncomfortable in – in order that they _could_ get what they needed. She was a professional, and she knew better, and she still hated it. But more than hating it, it made her _jealous_, and she was most assuredly _not_ the jealous type. But seeing him – even if it was Charles Carmichael, and not Chuck who was doing it – do those things to those women when he couldn't do them with her, made her angry, and made her jealous. And that would not do on a mission. In the past most recent missions where it had been necessary, it had taken all of her willpower and professionalism to not march up to them, smack the little bitch in the face, and call her a homewrecking slut.

And those had been _her_ thoughts. The thoughts of a supposedly professional CIA Operative. It was really no wonder why it was so hard for him, when he was on the receiving side of the same form of torture. Which was just as frequent, if not moreso, than she was. She knew how difficult what he had to do, almost constantly, was. But Agent Walker did have a job to do, namely to protect him from all the bad people who wanted to kill him for what was in his brain. And in order to do that, she needed missions to run smoothly, and him to be professional by not nearly blowing their cover and dropping thousand-dollar bottles of wine. Which is why all of this had to end. Tonight. If for no other reason that it was phsyically putting his life in danger. She knew of only two possible fixes to their problem, and they were definitely mutually exclusive to each other. She also knew which one she preferred, and which one she hoped that he did, as well.

"You need to either man up and put yourself out there, like you both clearly want," Bryce had said earlier that week, zeroing in on the tension between the two, like the trained spy that he was, "or you need to cut him loose. Permanently. Its cruel, to _both_ of you, not to. Chuck's a good guy, Sarah, and if you're not going to man up, then you need let him find someone else who will. He's been through too much already"

Of course, she knew what Bryce was trying to convince her to do. Drop Chuck, get reassigned, and come on the road fighting the bad guys with him. And, if he had told her that a year ago, maybe even less, she might have. She couldn't even be mad at Bryce, not really. He didn't know how much her leaving would destroy Chuck. And, in his own way, he was still looking out for his nerdy, Klingon-speaking fraternity brother. So, as much as she wanted to be furious at him, she couldn't. Not really. She couldn't find the energy to care, really, it was that unimportant at this point. She just knew that she had to get to him, tonight, immediately after the debriefing. Before Bryce or anyone else could get to him. One way or another, this dance they'd been doing was going to end. Tonight.

"...If there are no further questions," General Beckman said, pausing slightly to make sure there weren't any, and seeing none, continued, "then you are dismissed. Great job, as always, Team Bartowski. I will debrief Agent Larkin separately. Dismissed."

As soon as the screen went blank, Sarah turned to Chuck

"Can I talk to you for a minute Chuck?"

"Sure, I gue...whoa!" Chuck said, as she grabbed him by the hand and practically dragged him through the corridors, deeper into Castle.

"Sarah, couldn't this wait? Or couldn't we do this in the car? We have to be at Ellie's in 45 minutes"

"No, Chuck. This can't wait," she said, ominously – perhaps more ominously than she had intended – as they arrived outside the interrogation room – because it was sound proof, and private, away from the prying eyes of Casey and Bryce. She continued,

"And I already called Ellie and told her we were going to be a little late"

"O...Okay," Chuck said, nervously as Sarah placed her hand up to the fingerprint scanner to open the door to the interrogation room.

"Did...Did I do something wrong, Sarah?" Chuck asked, nervously as she motioned for him to enter the room before her. "Look, I mean, I know I kind of dropped the ball today with my cover, and I'm sorry, its just...I...I..."

Before he could even finish making up an excuse which he knew she wouldn't believe anyway, the door to the interrogation room had sealed, and she shoved him brusquely against the wall. She immediately followed by closing the admittedly close space between them before he even knew what was happening; in what could have only been a few seconds, she had her entire body pressed against his, one leg wrapped around his for support. One of her arms snaked around his neck and she ran her fingers through the hair on the back of his head, as her other hand grabbed desperately at his tie and shirt; clinging, grasping, desperately pulling down so that his face met hers, and then, in one fluid motion, she crashed her lips against his, kissing him hungrily. It was a hungry, desperate kiss, full of longing, and passion, and desire. She was not usually very good with words, preferring to let her actions speak for her: she was pouring everything she had – every hope, every desire, every truth – into that kiss, hoping, for both their sakes that he would get the message.

When she pulled away, many minutes later, she briefly rested her forehead against his, simply smiling happily and catching her breath. Once she caught her breath, however, she straightened up, and slapped Chuck across the face. Hard.

"That was for almost blowing our cover, Charles Irving Bartowski," she said, her jaw set firmly showing her clear displeasure. "If we hadn't been as lucky as we were, we would all be dead right now, and Fulcrum would have the intersect data"

Chuck was still stunned from both the whopper of a kiss and then the slap to be able to coherently form words, let alone string them together to form a functional sentence. She took advantage of this fact to grab the sides of his face in her hands, and kiss him, hard, again. Though perhaps a bit less intense than the first one, it was still far from quick or chaste.

"And that was because I hate seeing those sluts all over you, even if I know its an important part of the mission, and you're playing the role of Charles Carmichael, and they're just your mark, I still hate it, and I hate them," she said as she pulled away.

Chuck opened his mouth to speak, finally, after what must have been several minutes, but Sarah raised her finger to indicated that she wasn't done speaking. Chuck knew Sarah well enough to know that if he wanted to hear what she had to say, it was now or never, and he had better keep his damn mouth shut, or else she would probably never open up to him like this ever again. So he kept his damn mouth shut, and waited for her to finish.

"No, Chuck. I need to talk, and I need you to listen to me right now. Please just shut up until I'm done, please?"

Chuck nodded, apprehensively, his acquiescance.

"Enough is enough, Chuck," she began. He began to make noises of protest, but one death glare from her shut him up so she could continue.

"Enough is enough. We can't keep going on like this. I know its hard. Going on like this, pretending this cover isn't killing us, pretending we're okay watching each other using these sorts of tactics when we need to get close to somebody, pretending that we haven't smashed through the barriers of professional, or even simply platonic, ages ago"

"Hell, Chuck, its killing _me_. Its making _me_ jealous and angry, and I'm a trained professional. This is my job. I do this for a living, Chuck," she continued, pacing the room, not fully noticing the dejected look that was starting to creep onto Chuck's face.

"I can only imagine how much worse it is for you, and I _hate_ that. I especially hate it because I know, from an operational standpoint, this isn't going to be the last time, either, and I can't bear the fact that I'm causing you pain," she said.

"Something's gotta give, as they say," she continued. By this point, Chuck was staring at the floor, doing all he could to avoid looking at her face when she delivered the death blow he knew was coming. She sat on the desk in the interrogation room directly opposite him in the chair, and softly held his face in between her hands, forcing him to look at her.

"Which is why," she said, making sure she looked at her face, as she half-smiled at him, "we've got to figure this out. The way I see it, we have two options," she continued.

"The first," she said, trying to remain business like, despite how much she disliked the first option, "is that I report to Graham and Beckman that I have become emotionally attached to my asset, and have comprimised the mission, and get reassigned. Which of course, you know, would mean,"

"I would never see you again," Chuck said, hollowly.

"No. _We _would never see _each other_ ever again," she said, emphasising what she saw as a very important differentiation, that she hoped he would pick up on as she let it hang in the air before continuing.

"Or, second option, which is my personal preference," she said, "is that we can try to actually be together, for real. Like a real relationship, a real couple"

Chuck's eyes lit up and his head snapped up so fast, with that smile that made her heart do flips in her chest, that she thought it was going to make her head spin. Before he could say anything, she continued,

"Whoa, there. Slow down, tiger. Before you say anything, you need to really understand what that would mean – what we'd be getting ourselves into"

Chuck nodded his head vigourously, urging her to continue.

"First, and I would think obviously, but I'm going to say it anyway, is that I'm not promising anything beyond the fact that I want to give _us_ a shot. I'm not saying let's go to Vegas and elope, and I'm not saying that we should have some suburban house with a red door and a picket fence," she added, thankful that he didn't know that she had just described to him the house she had always secretly thought she would want, if she had been able to have that kind of life.

"But I'm also saying that I don't want to lose you, Chuck, and I'm willing to see where this goes. And who knows, maybe someday..."

"Yes" Chuck said, immediately, jumping up from his seat and wrapping his arms around Sarah, not needing or wanting to hear anything after that. He had a real chance of actually getting the girl, the girl who we was crazy about and who, it turns out actually kind of liked him back.

"Whoa, slow down there, tiger," she said in response, but she was smiling broadly. "I have some other conditions"

"Conditions? Sarah, what do you mean 'conditions'. 'Conditions' makes this sound like you're trying to negotiate a cover, or trying to pull some spy stuff on me," Chuck said, noticeably hurt. "Are you trying to negotiate something with me, or are you trying to tell me how you feel and ask if I feel the same?"

Sarah took a deep breath before speaking.

"See, this is one of those things. I guess I mis-spoke," she said, gathering her thoughts. "I've never been really good with words, or talking about – or even really been completely comfortable with – my feelings. Especially after I joined the CIA. I know that you're a much more vocal, communicative person than I am," she continued, "but its something I'm willing to work on. Because I care about you, and I want to make you feel how special you are to me. But you're going to have to be patient with me. You're going to have to realise that I'm going to mis-speak. And say the wrong thing, and sometimes even do the wrong thing. I'm not very good, or even very experienced with relationships, Chuck, and I need you to be patient with me, and not spiral out of control on me," she said.

Chuck chuckled and smiled happily.

"That was actually a concern of my own," he said. "By the way, I think 'concern' is a better word to use here than 'condition', just for future reference," he said, trying to inject a little levity into their conversation, and Sarah cracked a smile, however small. "I don't exactly have the best track record in relationships, or spying, or anything, really, in general. Though I am the world champion at duck hunt on Nintendo, but that doesn't really count for much in this context, I realise," he said, nervously. "I'm so afraid that if we get together, I'll do something to screw it up, or even that I'll just do something to make myself _think_ I've screwed it all up, and then one day I'll just wake up and you'll be gone, and I'll never even know if it was ever real or you were just playing me for your job"

"What are you saying, Chuck? Don't you trust me?" Sarah asked, hurt.

"No. No, of course not. Sarah, I do trust you. I trust you with my life, and I...I trust you with everything else, too," he added, shyly. "I do. Its just, I guess, what I'm saying is this. If we're going to do this, we should be clear with each other. If we're going to do this, its going to be a _real_ relationship, with real feelings, real emotions, our _real_ selves. No hiding. Okay? We'll promise to be patient and understanding with each other, and always be truthful with each other. Use our real emotions, not tell each other what we think they want to hear, pretend everything is okay, and secretly stew. No smoke and mirros stuff, no spycraft. Okay? If you're angry at me, tell me. And I'll tell you the same. But at the same time, I need to know that if you care about me, you won't be afraid to tell me, either. And that when you tell me, you'll mean it. Okay? I promise that. Do you?"

Sarah looked into Chuck's eyes and smiled a watery smile before she added,

"I promise, Chuck," she said, kissing him tenderly for a quick moment before pulling away, and continuing, "But I have another major concern. Well, two related concerns, Chuck. I am a CIA Agent, and for the time being I have no inention to quit my job. Which means that sometimes there are going to be things that neither you or I are going to particularly like, but will both have to accept as part of the job. Especially considering the fact that you still have that damn intersect in your head, which means a lot of really powerful, really bad people are still out there, trying to kill or capture you. My job is to keep you safe. And I intend to do just that. But in order for me to do that, sometimes that will mean me, or you, or both of us, doing things that make us uncomfortable and don't like, in the field, without blowing our covers. Yes, sometimes the jealousy is a little cute, but in the field there is no room for cute, or jealous. Especially when the result of blowing our covers could mean one, or both of us, dead. Do you understand?"

"I think so," Chuck said, drawing out his response in order to try to phrase his follow up question in as neutral a way as possible. "But, I'm not sure I understand what, exactly, that entails or what, um, boundaries, there are"

A flash of recognition of what he was asking her swam across Sarah's face, but it was gone in an instant. It hurt, a little, that he would ask her that particular question, but it was a fair question. Especially given the stories about her reputation that Carina and Casey both implied – wrongly, but that is neither here nor there – about her past. And if they were going to do this, and if they were going to have this conversation, it had to be a serious and honest conversation. He certainly deserved to know where he stood. She knew that she would probably ask the same thing were the roles reversed.

"Ok, Chuck, first of all, we promised to be honest and open with each other, so I'm going to tell you that I'm proud of how you're actually asking questions like this, but at the same time, I'm very hurt that you would think that I would do _that_ to you. Maybe at one point I would have, but if we are together, no, I would never. Even if a mission called for it, I would find another way. The CIA doesn't really agree on this, of course, but they also don't agree with their agents having real relationships with people, either, so we're in uncharted waters here. But no, there has to be some kind of clear boundaries for us, I agree. And at some point, in the future, if it comes to that, that is a conversation we would need to have, but no I would never _cheat_ on you in order to get information out of a mark. Ever. If we establish a line somewhere, between us, that is not something I would cross. But that's not what I'm talking about. I mean things like posing as a married couple with a male agent, or dancing, sometimes seductively and letting them get a good look or maybe even cop a feel, if a mission required it, in order to maintain our covers and complete the mission. Is that something you could handle, Chuck? Remember, we promised that we had to be honest with each other"

Chuck inhabled deeply to calm his nerves before speaking.

"I won't pretend that I _like_ it. But I know enough about this business, I think, now, and enough about you, that I trust you to know what you're doing. I'm not going to pretend that I'd like it, or even that it wouldn't hurt, or I'd be completely on-board with it, and I'd _rather_ you do those sorts of covers with me, if at all possible, but, I think as long as we both understand that there are uncrossable boundaries, and what those are, and that, at the end of the day I know its me that you actually care about and want to come home to...I think I could find a way to deal with it"

"I'm not expecting you to _like_ it Chuck. I would seriously question how you felt about me if you did," Sarah replied. "But I need to be able to do my job, and know that you would at least be able to _deal with_ it. I need to know that, should the need arise, I can do my job as necessary. Especially considering that my job, right now, is _keeping you safe_," she added, before continuing.

"Besides, Chuck, its not like that dislike doesn't go both ways. I don't particularly enjoy seeing Charles Carmichael seducing ladies who aren't me at these fancy galas, but I know that it needs to happen, sometimes, for us to do our jobs and complete our mission. Understand?"

Chuck nodded. Perhaps not as enthusiastically as she would have hoped, but he nodded.

"Remember, Chuck, just because you can get over it, doesn't mean you have to be okay with it, or even that we can't talk about these sorts of things. But I just need you to be okay with it happening, occasionally, if there are no other effective ways for us to complete our missions, understand?"

Chuck nodded again, smiling his trademark half-smile that always got her.

"You said this concern was a two-parter, though, Sarah. What else is bothering you?"

"Chuck, if we're going to do this, I need to be able to trust that its not going to affect our operational efficiency. Which is why, if we're going to do this, you need to be able to separate girlfriend Sarah from Agent Walker. Just like I'm going to have to try to separate Boyfriend Chuck from Asset Chuck-slash-the Intersect. I know its not exactly going to be particularly easy, for either of us, but the best way to prevent the brass from finding a problem with us, and finding out that we're breaking like every regulation in the book, and immediately and permanently separating us, is for us to be able to be professional when on missions, understand? When we're out in an operational capacity, I can't be your girlfriend, Sarah, I have to be your handler, Agent Walker. And you can't be my boyfriend Chuck, you have to be my asset, The Intersect. Okay?"

"Again, I don't particularly _like_ this, Sarah," Chuck said, "I'm trying to be honest with you, here. It will be very hard for me, but if that's what it takes for us to be together, I'll do my best. I can't promise any more than that, but I do promise you that"

"That means, Chuck, if I tell you to stay in the car, you stay in the damn car. If I tell you to stay at Castle, you stay at Castle. If I tell you to run away, you run away. Understand?"

"Yes," Chuck said, smiling happily, an expression which was enthusiastically matched by Sarah.

"I guess that leaves just one thing left," Sarah said, coyly. _Tell him, Sarah_. She told herself. _Now or never. He's waited so long to hear it. And its not like you'd be lying, because you do. He deserves to hear it, and you made him a promise. Are you going to start hurting him already? You're doing this so that you can both stop hurting._ She scolded herself.

"Oh yeah, and what's that?"

Sarah took a deep, calming breath, before replying.

"Chuck, I love you"

"I love you, too, Sarah"

It was like a dam broke. It only took about a half a moment of hesitation before they both, seemingly at the same time, flung themselves at each other, smashing their lips into each other, kissing passionately, desperately; trying to pass as much understanding, and comfort, and longing and desire, and all the other emotions that had been building between them over the past year and a half, into one kiss, their tongues teasing, playing, begging entry.

Before they knew what was happening, Sarah's legs were wrapped tightly around Chuck's torso, as they were hastily removing as much clothing as fast as they possibly could, quickly discarding the offending items.

As they continued with their mutual ministrations, revving their respective partner's engine, Chuck nibbled sensually at Sarah's neck, at a place which, he now knew, was sensitive and erogenous for her, as she moaned softly, her shirt unbuttoned all except the last one, falling limply at her sides, as she attempted to help him remove her bra, whilst moaning in pleasure.

"Chuck...Chuck...," she gasped out between heavy breaths. "We...we shouldn't...have sex...in the interrogation room..."

"Does that...mean you don't want to? Do you...do you...want...me to stop?"

"Not a fucking chance," she gasped, moaning as he caught her earlobe between his teeth. "It just means that we shouldn't do it"

With that, everything ceased but the sounds and sensations of their mutual pleasure as they enjoyed being together in a way they had not yet experienced.

"I meant what I said earlier," she said, some time later, as they finally began to dress themselves again. "I do love you Chuck"

"I know. I trust you, Sarah."

"But I also meant what I said about the other things, too"

Chuck sighed, unsure whether he should be excstatic with happiness or exasperated that she didn't understand that he understood.

"I know, Sarah. I don't particularly like it, but I know."

"I don't particularly like it, either, Chuck, but its just the facts. The fact is, this isn't a fucking video game, Chuck – and before you say that you know, I know that you know, but I just...I need to say it anyway. I don't mean to be that nagging girlfriend already, but its _that_ important. These people are _bad_ people, and they are willing to do anything to get the intersect. Let's put it this way...if they captured you, well, when they finally _did_ kill you, it would be a mercy," she said, soberly.

"And if that happened, do you have any idea what that would do to me Chuck? Do you?"

Chuck opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again, when he realised that he had none. She had never opened up to him like this before, ever. He had had his hopes, his assumptions, but he never knew, and as serious as this conversation was, it helped him feel so much closer to her – and, he hoped, the feeling was reciprocated. So, instead, he just waited for her to continue.

"It would _destroy_ me, Chuck. I...there are no words," she said. "It would literally kill me, and that's not hyperbole," she added. "I am willing to do anything necessary, short of breaking our own boundaries, to keep you safe and alive. I will kill each and every single person who sets their sights on hurting you, if I have to, if it will keep you safe and make sure that no one is going to take you away from me. Losing you like that would absolutely _destroy_ me, which is why its so important that you listen to me, and that we are able to function well, as a team, on missions, Sweetie. Because if we can't, I can't keep you alive."

"Sarah," Chuck said, softly rubbing her shoulders and upper arms tentatively in an attempt to calm her nerves, before he continued. "Baby," he tried, tentatively testing the waters of the pet name, and meeting no resisitance, continued, "Shh, you need to calm down, I would never..."

"No, Chuck, I need to get this off my chest," she said. "I was serious when I said that these were our only two options. Either we try to make this work, for real, which, for what its worth I'm glad we've decided on," she said, "Or else, I was willing to break both of our hearts and get reassigned, in order to keep you safe. Because that's what it would take. And I would be willing to do that, if it kept you alive, because I love you that much, Chuck. And its crazy, because up until I met you, I'd never felt anything remotely close to this, and now its all hitting me so quickly and its scaring me a little, but at the same time I love it and its amazing, and I just...I just need to know that you understand, Chuck"

"I do, Sarah. Really. I understand. And I also understand just how hard it was for you to tell me, to talk to me like this," he said, smiling, as he kissed her chastely as he re-did his tie. "And I can't tell you how much I appreciate that you did. I mean, besides the obvious," he said, continuing, "the fact that you trust me enough to let me in like that, to be as honest as you have been, well, it makes me feel really good," he said, finally deciding on how best to phrase his idea. He continued,

"Do you think you can promise me something, Sarah?"

"Hmm"

"Don't close on me"

"What?"

"Don't close up. I really like that we're able to be this open with each other. And I get that there are some things that you can't tell me, and that's fine. Just say that something's classified, or you can't tell me because its spy stuff and above my pay grade, or whatever, and I'll let it drop. And I also get that there are a lot of things in your past that are very difficult for you to talk about, but I want you to know that I'll be here. I promise I won't judge you or think any less of you, especially for something that happened in the past, before we knew each other, that had to happen in order for us to get to where we are now. I also promise that I won't push, or pry too much, as long as you don't close up or push me away. The only reason I ask about your past is because I want to get to know you, the real you, as best as I can."

"But in return, I want you to promise me that you're not going to close yourself off, and not tell me things, or push me away, or whatever. I get that its hard for you. Really, I do. It's hard for me, too, believe it or not. I know you think I'm some kind of chatterbox, and maybe compared to you, I am. But talking about my feelings – open, honest, healthy communication like I see with Awesome and Ellie – that's really scary for me, too. But the thing is, that's what I want. That's what I want us to have. And I know its going to take some time, maybe even a lot of time, to get there. And we're going to fight and have arguments and misunderstandings and all sorts of those things real couples have, and I'm okay with that. But what I'm not okay with is you closing yourself off to me, or telling me what you think I want to hear, nor not being truthful – especially with our situation being what it is, we need to be able to trust each other. So I'll promise you that I'll try my best, if you promise me you'll try yours. Deal?"

She was like putty in his hands. That was the sweetest speech she had ever heard and it made her heart melt. She couldn't deny him anything, after that.

"I promise, Chuck," She said, smiling, leaning up for one more kiss before they left the confines of the interrogation room. "So, Sweetie," she continued, liking the sound of the pet name she'd landed on, as she stood up, and grabbed his hand, and linking it shyly with her own, "I know this is just a bit of a formality at this point, but I take it that means you want to be my boyfriend for real?"

"Only if you want to be my girlfriend for real"

"There is nothing I think I'd want more," she said, happy enough to burst, as they walked, hand-in-hand, out of Castle, out of the Buy More and towards the Nerd Herder.

They were greeted warmly as they entered the apartment by Ellie and Awesome; Ellie was holding a bottle of wine which she happened to know was Sarah's favourite and kept in the house just for her – she was always so considerate like that – and were both hugged warmly as if they had been away for ages, even though Sarah had been over a few days ago, and Chuck was there that morning since he still lived there. Morgan was also there, as well as a few others whom Sarah remembered worked at the hospital with Devon and Ellie. The event was certainly celebratory and happy, in that it was a celebratory dinner in honour of Ellie and Awesome's recent engagement, it was far from one of the more raucous parties which the Bartowski household seemed to be reknowned for. It was relatively simple, just drinks, a good meal, and nice conversation, but it was very nice. And after the highly emotional situation she and Chuck had just recently been in, Sarah found it very relaxing to just sit next to Chuck, have a nice meal, drink her favourite wine, and make pleasant conversation. It was so mundane, so domestic, so absolutely _normal_ and she loved it. Smiling, she looked around the table and took in what she saw; with the exception of Ellie and Devon's doctor friends, these were the people closest to Chuck. His own little self-made, non-normal family. Morgan, his best friend whom he had known since they were six years old, whom both had told her, on multiple occasions they were more like brothers than just friends, best or otherwise. There was Devon, the kind-hearted man who loved Chuck's sister the way that she and Chuck loved each other – at least, that's what she hoped, at least some day. He was kind, and funny, and yeah, definitely more than a little strange with his frat-boy nature well beyond it being age-appropriate, and with his adrenaline-junkie athletics it was hard to place him in this family, this goofy, silly nerdy family of people who were much more comfortable ordering pizza and watching movies than rock climbing or parasailing, but they had made him welcome. He had made the effort to insert himself in their lives, to make their lives his life, and in return, they had let him. They had opened their homes and their hearts to him, accepted him, made room for him in their weird little self-made family. And it warmed her heart, how accepting, big hearted, and quick to love these Bartowskis were.

And then there was Ellie. Ellie was an enigma to Sarah, and their relationship was a complicated one. To say that she was in awe of Ellie Bartowski soon-to-be-Woodcomb would be an understatement. She had practically raised Chuck herself, once their mother disappeared, and then certainly after their dad disappeared as well; starting at the age of fourteen she had to be not only Chuck's older sister, but also his mother and his father as well. And she did an amazing job. Whether it was just inherent in Chuck, or due to Ellie's kind, yet slightly overbearing nature, or some combination of the two, Chuck had grown up to be the single most amazing man she had ever met, and to say she was thankful to Ellie for helping and supporting her brother to the extent she had, well, there were not enough words in any of the language she spoke to sum up just how thankful she was. And the fact that she had done all of that whilst putting herself first through university, and then medical school and residency, and still having time to raise her little brother, and be there for him after what happened at Stanford, well, she was well and truly in awe of Dr Eleanor Bartowski.

And that was to say nothing of her personality. Ellie had been nothing but friendly, open, and welcoming to Sarah from the moment they had met, which had been only after three dates with Chuck, on her own insistence. From the very first moment they had met, she had been friendly and open with the blonde, and had tried to make her feel as welcome and included as possible, even inviting her to things which, to Sarah's perspective at the time, she had no business being invited to; family events: Thanksgiving, Christmas, Birthdays. And she had done it all out of the goodness of her heart, because she wanted Sarah to feel welcome. Because Sarah was with Chuck, and Ellie loved her brother and wanted him to be happy. If Sarah was being honest with herself, despite her being a trained, professional CIA Operative, she found Chuck's sister to be one of the most intimidating people she had ever met, if only because of what a geniunely good person she was, and how much she cared for Chuck, making her wonder if she would ever be able to live up to the good Doctor's standards.

Which was part of the reason why her relationship with Ellie had always been a bit weird. Of course she had always been kind, and warm and welcoming, and she bent over backwards to make her feel accepted and welcome, and yet...Sarah always got the distinct impression that it was for Chuck's benefit. That Ellie treated her the way she did for Chuck. Not that she minded or blamed her at all; after all, the doctor barely knew her from Adam, especially in the early days when they had just started dating – cover or not; she was glad that not, at least in her internal dialogue she didn't have to make a distinction between cover dates and real dates anymore. Were the roles reversed, she certainly would have done the same. And she still would. Sarah thought she could be friendly to just about anyone, if it would make Chuck happy – in fact, she thought that was the primary reason why Jeff and Lester were still alive. No, Sarah couldn't fault Ellie for the distance, however subtle, there was in their relationship. But to deny that it wasn't there would be a lie. The twinkle in her eyes that reminded her so much of Chuck's own eyes lost some of its lustre, the smile that constantly graced her face in these social situations didn't quite reach her eyes like it did with the others.

As much as she might claim otherwise, especially after Jill and before Sarah, when she desperately tried to hook her brother up with as many of her single friends and colleagues who would tolerate it, Ellie sometimes had a very hard time seeing Chuck as anything but her baby brother who would tell people that he wanted to be a "big boy" when he grew up. Which was why sometimes she had a hard time acknowledging that her baby brother did "big boy" things with his "big boy" girlfriend. "Big boy" girlfriend like Sarah. Sarah was an amazing catch. Beautiful, smart, down to earth if perhaps a little shy, friendly, kind. She had shown time and time again, in just the relatively short time they had known each other that she was willing to accept Chuck and all the crazy family shenanigans that came with him for exactly who he was, and didn't try to change him. She was good for him, Ellie knew. And that was both from a professional opinion, as a doctor, and from a maternal opinion as the big-sister-who-raised-him. Chuck was crazy about her, which was a good thing, because Ellie saw the shy, coy way she looked at her brother when she thought nobody was paying attention. Sarah Walker absolutely _adored_ her brother and it made her so happy. They were so good for each other; bringing out the best qualities in each other, and balancing out their respective negative traits.

But there was one thing that had always bothered her about Sarah, and that was the fact that she didn't seem to ever be able to be completely comfortable, completely open and relaxed in the apartment. It was like there was an invisible barrier about certain topics, certain things that she wouldn't – or couldn't – allow herself to breach, and it was like an invisible barrier making it impossible to completely let others into her life, or be completely within others. Ellie hated to think of people, especially people so important to her – Sarah was important to Chuck, and that made her important to her, it was that simple – but she couldn't help shake the feeling that those barriers didn't have anything to do with herself or Devon, and she was almost positive they existed when it was just her and Chuck, as well. And she hated that thought. And not just for her brother, but for Sarah, too. She hated to think poorly of the girl, since she and Chuck clearly both adored each other, but she couldn't help thinking that maybe, at least subconciously, Sarah was stringing her brother along. And she couldn't let that happen. Chuck couldn't withstand another Jill. And whilst she knew, just by the way Sarah looked at her brother when she didn't think anyone noticed, that she would never do such a thing intentionally, still, she was worried.

Every time she had talked to her brother – or rather, _tried_ to talk to him – about it, Chuck had shut her down. He had told her she needed to mind her own business, and that things were fine. Sarah was just shy, and that Ellie knew she was shy and he didn't want her pushing or prying, because it would scare her, and it might do more damage than help. Ellie didn't know why Chuck was always running so scared around his girlfriend, as if she were a temperamental colt that might bolt the paddock if she got spooked; yes, she was a shy girl and on the quiet side – at least until she got comfortable with you – but that trait just made her more endearing. And yes, she was a bit more hesitant to talk about her feelings, or, especially, her past than they would have expected – and both she and Chuck knew somehting about bad pasts – and on the rare cases she did open up about her past, she revealed that her past, much like her's and Chuck's own was not very happy – but he acted like if he said the wrong thing, or did the right move, he'd wake up the next day and she'd be gone. And she knew that she was probably punishing the wrong person for this. She knew that this probably had more to do with Chuck's lack of self-confidence than anything that Sarah had herself done, or for that matter, not done. But he was her baby brother, and she had practically raised him, and she couldn't stand to see him act or think that way about his girlfriend, of all people. And yes, she was ashamed to admit, it had probably affected the ability of her and Sarah to really get as close as she wanted them to be – after all, with as serious as they clearly were about each other, she could really see Sarah being Chuck's last, and best, girlfriend, and she wanted to be close to her. But until whatever was holding them back was resolved, she couldn't help herself. Which is why she had resolved to talk to Sarah about it soon, if it didn't seem to work itself out.

Luckily for her, when her brother came home for dinner that evening, with Sarah in toe, something was different about them. Something had passed between them, and whatever had been holding them back, it was as if it had never existed. She couldn't put it into words, but the way they looked at each other, smiled knowingly at each other, both – including shy Sarah – were throwing themselves into the conversation around the table with vigour; the way they laughed freely and easily with each other, the way he and Sarah seemed to be constantly seeking some kind of physical contact with each other; whether they were holding hands, or Sarah was hanging on to his arm, or he draped his arm around her shoulder and softly played with her hair, it was adorable, and it made it abundantly clear that whatever had been impeding them in recent months, whatever had been there issue, was no longer. Ellie smiled at the thought. A full, bright, Dr. Ellie smile.

After dinner, as all the guests were mingling in conversation and settling in on couches before, as was inevitable, the after-dinner-party board games made an appearance, Ellie was in the kitchen opening a fresh bottle of wine, when Sarah approached her shyly.

"Ellie?"

"Oh, hey Sarah, I was so glad you could come," Ellie said. "When you called me and said that you guys were going to be late and that you might be stuck working an extra shift last minute, I was really worried. So I'm really glad you were able to make it," she said, her smile finally reaching her eyes. "Could you hand me that second bottle of wine, please? Between you and me, we seem to go through this stuff like water"

The smile did not go unnoticed by Sarah, who reciprocated gladly, and they shared a laugh.

Ellie, however, noticed there was still something on the shy girl's mind. Smiling, and placing her hands on her hips, she turned to the face the blonde and said,

"Ok, Sarah. Out with it."

"Do you think we could maybe talk in private, Ellie?"

"Sure, sure thing," Ellie replied. "Is something wrong?"

"What? Oh, no, not at all. Its just...I wanted to talk to you about something...and well, I just...don't want..."

"Say no more," Ellie said, leading Sarah out of the main area of the house, towards her and Devon's room. "Honey, Sarah and I are going to have a little girl talk for a little bit, do you think you can keep everyone entertained until we get back?"

Devon's reply of "Sure Babe" and everyone else's good-natured ribbing of Chuck was the last they heard as they disappeared down the corridor, into Ellie and Devon's bedroom. Without preamble, Ellie took a seat on the bed, cross-legged, and drank her wine as she waited for Sarah to do the same so they begin. Once they were both seated, and Sarah had also taken a drink, the younger girl began without preamble,

"I told Chuck I loved him today"

Ellie shrieked in happiness, smiled a big, broat, 1000-watt smile, and pulled Sarah into a bone crushing hug.

"Oh my god, that's so amazing! I'm so happy for you, Sarah!" She cried, not loosening her embrace in the slightest. "That's such a big step, I'm so happy for...wait," she said, suddenly serious, and pulling their embrace apart so she could look into Sarah's eyes before she continued.

"_You_ told _him_ that you love him...? Did he not...no, he couldn't...he wouldn't...that's not why you wanted to talk to me, is it? Oh, honey, you know he absolutely _adores_ you, right? My idiot brother is clearly _very stupid_ if he didn't tell an amazing girl like you he loves you back, but believe me, he does, more than anything...he's just a bit thick sometimes...don't you worry, I'm going to put the fear of God into him..."

"Ellie! Stop!"

"What"

"I know he loves me, Ellie. He said it back, don't worry. That's not what this was about"

"Then...what...I don't understand"

"This is about you and me, Ell"

"What do you mean"

"You are definitely one of the most important people in Chuck's life," Sarah began. "He adores you. Honestly, for a long time I was jealous. I still kind of am. But not so much because, well, I'd rather be able to do non-sibling things with him if you get what I mean," she said, giggling conspiratorially, even though, as a general rule, Sarah Walker _did not_ giggle. She continued,

"But you're such a huge part of his life. And he loves you. And because he loves you, then I love you. Because you're always going to be an important part of his life, which means that you're always going to be an important part of my life," she said, ignoring the fact that Ellie's eyes got as big as saucer's at her inadvertent admission from the slip of her tongue, which she then proceeded to staunchly ignore and both girls mutually agreed to not delve into that particular conversation for now, for which Sarah was eternally grateful.

"I guess, what I'm trying to say is this: as long as I'm going to be with Chuck, you're going to be a part of our lives, and I like that. And I want us to be closer, friends, maybe. And I know that you try to hide it – and you've been pretty good at it, I don't think Chuck caught on – but I noticed over the past couple of months, you've been...I can't say cool, because you couldn't be anything but warm and friendly to anyone if you tried, I don't think," she said, smirking slightly, before continuing, "but definitely...not as friendly to me as you were when we first started dating. At first I thought it was maybe you were just excited that Chuck was dating again, and it wasn't _me_ per se, but Chuck told me that wasn't true. So I was stumped for a while as to what I did, but then, I think I finally figured it out. And so, I wanted to tell you, I told Chuck that I love him. I'm not stringing him along, and I'm going to do everything I can to never break his heart."

Ellie was shocked, not only by the frank admission, but also from the shrewd observation and no-nonsense way she had dealt with it. It was not something she was expecting at all – not that she didn't think Sarah capable of those things, she was sure Sarah was more than capable – but from the mere fact that most of those things she described were so base and subconcious on her own part that she barely even consciously was aware that it was the case.

"Sarah, please, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean..."

"No, Ellie, please. Its okay. You had every right to be distant," she said, cutting off the older girl. "You were protecting Chuck. Its the same thing I would have done. And you were also right. For a while I _was_ stringing him along," she said, her face downcast, taking all of her energy to fight the urge to bury her head in her hands and cry.

"I'm...I'm not very good at relationships, Ellie. Or at communicating about my feelings, or my past, or letting people in past a certain point. So I kept shutting down. I would string him along, even if that wasn't exactly my intention. I would open up to him, and he would get hopeful and try to make an honest effort to get me comfortable to open up more, and I'd get scared and I'd shut down. And I kept doing it, even though I knew how bad it made him feel. Because I wanted it – I wanted to be able to, more than anything, but I was just so scared, and it always backfired, and it made him miserable. _I_ made him miserable. I made us _both_ miserable for a long time, because I couldn't deal with my own shit," she said, as she took a breath to collect her thoughts before continuing,

"Sometimes I'd even do it on purpose, to try to push him away. Because I was afraid. I was so damn scared of these feelings for him, of how strong they were, of how fast and how hard I was falling for him. Because I've never been good at relationships. Because I'm not good at expressing my feelings. Because I'm scared to death of hurting him, or that he'll realise that there's so much that's...gone on in my past – please don't pry, Ellie, I'll tell you in time, I promise, but I haven't even told _him_ most of them yet, and he deserves to be the first to know – but that he'd find out, and he'd realise that I'm damaged goods, that I can never give him what he wants and so desperately deserves, that he'd leave me, and...and I couldn't handle that, so I figured if I kept him at more of a distance, or even pushed him away now, it would be easier on both of us in the long run," she said.

"It was stupid and stubborn, and it caused both of us so much undue pain," she said. "And sometimes I hate myself for it. I hate myself for the fact that _I _was the cause of so much pain for him. I _never _want to hurt him. I _love _him. But its true. You were right about me stringing him along for the past few months. But that's over now. And now that you know why, and now that you know that we've finally had that important discussion with each other – that's why we were late, by the way – that you know I'd never knowingly hurt your brother, and that maybe some day you can forgive me, and maybe we could even be friends one day"

Ellie was fighting hard not to smile even brighter than she already was, hug Sarah, and cry happy tears right there on the bed. She was fighting not because she didn't want to do those things – in fact they seemed like precisely the right thing to do at that very moment – but because all her instincts told her that there was more that Sarah wanted to say, and she needed to get it off her chest, and she needed to do it now. So instead, Ellie did her best to maintain the serious tone of the conversation they were having as she asked,

"So, what changed?"

"I realised how stupid and childish I was being. I realised how much pain I was putting the sweetest guy I had ever met through, and how unfair it was. To both of us. I realised didn't want to run from my past anymore. I was making both him and myself too damn miserable and if I didnt do something about it, it would end us, and it would be messy, and I didn't want that, for either of us. It would have hurt him, but it would have _killed _me to know what we could have had, but didn't, because I couldn't get over my own ghosts. But...most importantly, I realised that I love him. I'm in love with him. Honest-to-god, head-over-heels in love with him, and that I was sick and tired of trying to pretend, or of running from my past, of making us both miserable to protect myself. My Dad used to have a saying. 'You can't win big unless you're willing to risk it all'. So I figured it was going to be now or never, so I took the gamble, and, well...I think I won the jackpot," she finished, smiling happily, her smile matched by Ellie who was fighting to keep the tears from falling.

"You two _so_ belong together, its not even funny," Ellie said, as she pulled a surprised Sarah into a tight hug. As she released the embrace, she continued, "You two are just so good together. So good _for _each other," she added. "And not that you _needed it _or anything, but for what its worth, I approve of you dating my brother."

"Really?"

"Are you serious?" Ellie asked, unsure if she was joking or not. Chuck was the unsure one of the two; Sarah was shy, sure, but not insecure. "Of course, really. You two are so great together, Chuck is so lucky that he's got you. And I'm so happy that you've found each other"

Sarah's smile was so bright it could probably have been seen from outer space at that moment.

"But there is one thing you're wrong about, Sarah," Ellie said

"W-What's that?"

"We can't be friends someday," Ellie said seriously.

Sarah's smile faded and she looked down at the duvet, downcast.

"I...I...I...under-," she was saying before Ellie put two fingers on her lips to stop her from talking and continued the thought she was trying to get across, before Sarah's outburst of very Chuck-like insecurity.

"We can't be friends _someday_, Sarah, because we're _already_ friends, stupid," she teased. "In fact, of all my friends, I think you're probably one of, if not my very, best," she said, honestly.

"Really?"

"Really"

"But you hardly know me"

"I know you well enough," Ellie said. "But if you have a problem with how little you think we know each other, we could always hang out more, just us, and fix that problem quite easily, you know, eh?" She said, teasingly.

"I'd like that," Sarah said.

"So would I," Ellie replied.

"I've never been anyone's best friend before," Sarah said.

"Don't worry," Ellie said. "Its pretty easy. All you have to do is be yourself," she said, laughing and smiling, as she pulled Sarah into another hug. "And who knows, maybe some day we'll even be sisters," she whispered conspiratorially into Sarah's ear as they hugged, before releasing her, and getting off the bed, indicating that Sarah should do the same.

"Well then, new best friend," Ellie said, looking at Sarah and indicating their now very-empty wine glasses. "What do you say we go top ourselves off and go rejoin the party"

Before, when their relationship had ostensibly just been a cover Sarah only stayed over maybe once or twice a week to protect their cover, and most nights that she came over she made sure that Chuck drove her home at a somewhat respectable hour. They pretended and told people it was for a variety of reasons, as the need arose. Every reason, that is, except the real one: if they spent too much unchaperoned time together like that, their resolve would have eventually crumbled and they wouldn't have even been able to _pretend _to be able to hide behind any veil of professionalism. Of course, now that such concerns were, largely, irrelevant to their situation, it went without saying that Sarah spent the night after all the other guests had left.

Late that night, Sarah lay awake, thinking. Unlike previous times when she had laid awake in similar positions, it wasn't out of discomfort: she was snuggled comfortably next to Chuck, her head resting on his chest as his strong arms held her close. Nor was she troubled: for the first time in a long time she was confident and untroubled in her – in _their_, she reminded herself; now that she was in a real relationship with Chuck she had to start thinking of their decisions as a partnership – decision about their relationship and how things had panned out. She was not laying awake pining for something she felt she couldn't have, or didn't deserve to have, or fighting the urge to cry herself to sleep. In fact she was deliriously happy, for the first time in a long time. And it wasn't like she wasn't tired, either: in addition to the basic fact that both she and Chuck had been on the back-end of a nearly 20 hour day, three rounds of some of the most mind-blowing sex imaginable would take it out of anyone. Even Chuck who, despite his most valiant efforts to stay awake and cuddle and chat with her, after three rounds even he was unable to hold out and was now fast asleep beside her.

And the sex _was_ amazing. Whilst Sarah was never anywhere near the most promiscuous of agents within The Company's employ, before she had met Chuck, she had certainly used her femininity to her advantage when necessary, to say the least. She actually had hated actually doing it, most of the time. Especially when it required she actually do the deed. She felt so dirty after words, and even though she knew it was for the greater good, a sacrifice which, until recently, she felt was more than a fair trade, she always felt like little more than a prostitute when it happened. Yet, despite it all, she had also managed to have a fair amount of passionate, if short, daliances with extremely good looking, extremely well-connected, and extremely well-practiced men. Yet, for all these experiences, the sex with Chuck was exponentially better, it was almost beyond comparison. Chuck was the first, and only, person she had had sex with who had actually cared about her as a person, for whom the sex was more than just a physical reaction to a carnal need of lust. She thought, at one time, she might have had that with Bryce when they were together, but now that she had truly experienced what that was like, she knew that was not the case. She had always looked down on people who used the term "making love" when they meant "sex", because she thought it made them sound twatty and pretentious in their use of overly pretentious euphemisms for something which, she felt, didn't need a euphemism in the first place. But now, she realised, that whilst that may be the case for some people – and those people were, indeed, twatty and pretentious – actual love making was in fact different than just run of the mill sex. Making love referred to a very specific kind of sex which, not to put too fine of a stereotypical point on it, was just like her mother had told her it would be, a long, long time ago. Whereas all sex has the potential to be an amazing, wonderful, intimate experience, the intimacy involved in making love is not only implicit, but it is of a scale and calibre all its own; it really is the joining of two people, physically, mentally, and spiritually in a way nothing else can, and until that evening she had never experienced it before in her life. It was transformative. She had thought she had had great sex before. She had even thought that once or twice, in their more tender moments, she and Bryce may have made love. But after experiencing it with Chuck first hand that night, she realised that even the best of the sex she had before Chuck was like giving her a hamburger and trying to convince her it was a filet mignon.

And it was that reflection, that realisation that had kept her awake, staring at the ceiling of Chuck's bedroom long after he had fallen asleep contentedly beside her, and it was the thought of being able to enjoy that kind of connection, that kind of mind-blowing sexual intimacy with him for as long as he would have her to which she finally let sleep over take her.

The next morning, Chuck woke up to the strange, yet familiar sensation of the soft weight of Sarah's body cuddled up next to him. Her blonde hair was splayed out across her and the pillow, even a little bit across his face, and the sunlight streaming into the window hit it at just the right angle to make it shine like liquid gold. He quickly and quietly used his free hand to try to tuck some of the stray strands behind her ear without waking her, but she seemed to almost instictively recognise his touch already and stirred slightly in her sleep. Luckily, however, it was only momentary, and she proceeded to curl herself tighter into his body purred happily as she slept. He was deliriously happy. In fact, he was the happiest he could remember himself being in a very, very long time. He and Sarah were finally together, for real, and they were going to give what they had a real, fighting chance. Because they loved each other. He loved her, _and she loved him back_. He wasn't so naive as to fool himself into believing that it would be easy, and that it was all sunshine and rainbows ahead; he knew there was going to be some hard times, because that is just a part of life. But he knew that as long as they had each other, it would work out alright, and it would all be worth it. It was with that thought in his head, that he rested his head back on the pillow and went back to sleep.

He was woken up a few hours later by soft kisses and the hint of a finger softly tracing shapes on his bare chest.

"Hey, you," Sarah said, when he finally opened his eyes.

"Good morning," he said, smiling up at her.

"It most certainly is," she said, smiling sweetly. "How'd you sleep?"

"Like a log. You?"

"Probably the best night's sleep I've had in a long time," she said softly, kissing him briefly and tenderly before pulling away and scrunching up her eyes and nose – he loved the way they scrunched up like that – as she said, "Ew, morning breath."

"Look who's talking"

"Gee, thanks"

"No problem"

"Are you hungry, Chuck?"

"Starving. I'll go make some breakfast"

"Why don't _I_ make us some breakfast whilst you hop in the shower?"

"_Or_," Chuck said, waggling his eyes suggestively, "You could join me in the shower?"

"Easy there, Tiger. Don't start something you can't handle," Sarah said, laughing at his antics. "And right now, we don't really have time. You have to be at work in an hour"

"You're probably right," Chuck sighed, lifting himself first to his elbows, then to a sitting position, and finally standing as he grabbed his robe and his towel to head out to take his shower. "Breakfast would be great, thanks, Babe. You're amazing," he called over his shoulder just as he was about to leave the room, "lunch today?"

"Of course"

It was Ellie, rather than Chuck, who was the first Bartowski into the kitchen. Sarah didn't notice her at first, as she had her back turned to her, as she prepared the eggs and herbs, wearing nothing but her panties and one of Chuck's Stanford t-shirts, for the omelette that she knew he liked that she made for him during their operation against Fulcrum in the suburbs. She was so engrossed in the chopping of herbs and veggies and the whisking of eggs that Ellie was able to stand in the doorframe and watch her happily working at her task, completely unaware of her presence – how very unspylike! – for almost a full minute before she made her presence known.

"Wearing Chuck's clothes already, huh?" She teased, coming up beside the blonde girl, to give her a hand.

"Wha...huh...oh, hi Ellie! You startled me," she replied before quickly regaining her composure. _What kind of CIA Operative gets startled that easily, come on now, Walker_, she internally scolded herself. "But, uh, yeah. I don't exactly have a lot of clothes of my own here..." she said, letting the sentence hang in the air, hoping that Ellie would get her deeper meaning and let it drop.

Luckily, Ellie was certainly already living up to that "best friend" monicker, and winked conspiratorially and simply replied,

"Don't worry about it, I totally get it. I used to wear Devon's clothes all the time," she said, before simply changing the subject, "Whatcha making?"

"Breakfast"

"I can see _that_, Sarah, but I meant like, what are you making _for breakfast_, duh," Ellie said, laughing. Sarah liked that she and Ellie could talk and have a relationship like this, banter, teasing and repartee included, this quickly and easily. Maybe this best friend thing wouldn't be so hard after all.

"Omelettes"

"Omelettes? But Chuck doesn't really like eggs"

Sarah frowned slightly.

"He likes these," she said, confident in the fact that the way he devoured them when she made them for him before was not simply to protect her feelings. "I made them for him a couple of times when we were...house sitting...a few months ago, and he seemed to really love them"

"Hmm," Ellie replied thoughtfully. "Maybe he's just picky about his eggs," she said, winking, as she continued, "I've never been the best at cooking eggs. That was something our Mom always was good at, but when I had to start, well, you know...I never could quite get them the same"

Sarah and Ellie shared a knowing smile at that admission, and a few moments of comfortable silence as Ellie just watched Sarah as she chopped the herbs she needed for the eggs. Soon, all of her prep was done, and she started cooking the eggs and frying bacon in a second pan. By the time it was ready, Chuck had entered the kitchen, showered, fresh, and dressed in his work trousers and under-shirt. Sarah placed a plate with an omelette and some bacon in front of him, as he handed her a glass of orange juice.

After they had finished eating, Sarah went to take a quick shower, before they had to drive to her place so she could change her clothes as well on their way to work. Whilst she was showering, Chuck did the washing up, allowing his sister also some time to get ready for work. When he had finished with the washing up, he returned to his room to put on his button down, tie, and regulation pocket-protector and name tag whilst he waited for Sarah to finish up. Whilst doing this, he noticed a pair of sunglasses on his computer desk that he hadn't noticed there before. On closer inspection, he noticed there was a short note next to them, scrawled in Bryce Larkin's familiar messy hand. Curiosity got the better of him, and ignoring the nagging question in his mind as to how, exactly, Bryce Larkin got into his house without him knowing – as he was sure he probably could if he really wanted to – and instead, he picked up the note and read it.

_A peace offering, Chuck. I didn't mean to get you mixed up in all of this. I was trying to look out for you, I'm sorry. Take good care of her. You both deserve it. _

Chuck wasn't exactly sure what the message meant, exactly, but he understood the intention. And he was ready to forgive. What had happened in Stanford was in the past – and he _did_ know that Bryce had done it to protect him, in his own way – it was all in the past. Sarah hadn't run away with Bryce, but was staying here in Burbank with him. It was time that he started letting go of the past, of his old issues and hang-ups, and tried, at least, to move forward. And they were pretty nice shades, if he did say so himself. So, Chuck picked them up and put them on.

Immediately, images of all types flashed before his very eyes in an increasingly quick succession. There were so many images, so much data, that immediately started flooding into his brain that he hadn't known before, and..._oh god dammit_ he thought to himself, when he realised that these were Intersect glasses and he was probably...updating himself? It was so weird, he thought, to think of himself performing computing functions, himself, in his own brain. But he didn't have much time to thnk about it, because as soon as the update finished installing, just like the last time with the original download, he fainted.

When he woke up, Sarah was gazing down at him, holding the glasses, concern written all over her face.

"Chuck, what happened?"

"Sarah," Chuck said dramatically, pausing to take a breath before continuing, "I know kung fu."


	2. Chuck vs The Birthday

**Author's Note: Obviously, standard disclaimers. I don't own Chuck, its owned by NBC and its affiliates, and Shwedak. Bla bla bla. English is my third language, and whilst I've tried very hard to maintain the American English, especially in dialogue, sometimes I revert to the British terms with which I am much more familiar (why does English have so many different words for the same thing? Why? Its so hard for people who are non-native speakers!) In fact, it took me a long time to figure out the right term for "portable USB drive/Thumb drive/Zip drive". In Hebrew, we just say "disc-on-key" but I figure most people would not be familiar with that term. **

**I will not apologise for length in between updates, because I have never, and will never promise a regular schedule in updates. I'm a grown up with real-world responsibilities (I'm in the process of writing an MA Thesis/Dissertation, for example) but I try hard to update as regularly as possible. Also, I would much rather give you fine folks longer, better written chapters more slowly than quickly updated short, poorly-written rubbish. **

**It took me a while to get writing this chapter because for a while I had no idea where the plot/character archs were going. I was trying very hard to keep it as non-AU as possible, but then I realised: this is already an AU story. I should just write the story that is in my head, and fit in canon where and when I can, rather than trying to fit my story to canon, and from there, it became a lot easier. So if you are expecting this to basically be a retelling of canon from a different perspective with slight changes, this will probably not be the story for you. I do know of a pretty good TV programme, however, that might fit the bill. ;) **

**A brief explanation of what I mean I think is in order (don't worry, no spoilers): 1. I have always thought that Schwedak didn't portray Sarah's character right. Of course, their "right" is always technically "correct" since they invented her, but I always got the feeling that her character was much more sure of herself in terms of relationship-y things than they portrayed. What I mean by htat is, I always got the feeling that her character was a very strong, sure of herself person. If/when she would make a decision on something (say, for example, to get into a real realtionship with Chuck) that she would put in a real, honest, effort to really do so (unlike in the canon version, which shows her wanting to one minute, but then not making any effort to do what was necessary to have the relationship she wanted with Chuck the next, and I think they did it just for the cheap, easy, drama that came with the teen angsty stuff); 2. A major theme in this story is and will be "choice" and that is what will largely govern this story, at least that's what I'm thinking at this point, 3. I had a very hard time with the Beckman character/arch, because in the very beginning you get a real hardass Beckman, but then by the end of S03, she was basically their biggest cheerleader. I like that Beckman, but I think there needed to be more development towards that, and hopefully this story will allow me to do that, at least somewhat. 4. As I said, I don't think I will be including as much canon as I was originally intending – which is part of the reason why, I've thus far basicaly been picking and choosing the parts of canon I wish to use/reference which make sense for my story – I intend to follow this path, in particular for the "bad guys". The "CIA/NSA" in canon seemed to be so focused on Fulcrum and The Ring, at the expense of other bad guys. In my research, it seems to me that the remit of both those agency is basically human intelligence on foreign governments (i.e. counter espionage of foreign nationals/agentsin the US and doing the same thing abroad), similar to what the Mossad does (the agency I'm most familiar with as an Israeli). This is something that I think I will rectify in my story. I probably won't bring in the Ring at all, and I will probably make Fulcrum something bigger, more sinister than it was in the show, perhaps more imbedded with foreign elements. I'm not quite sure. But don't expect every mission our favourite couple goes on to be in some way related to Fulcrum, is I guess what I'm trying to say. 5. I really liked the "ensemble" nature of the show, how even when there wasnt something necessarily going on with Chuck and Sarah, there was something funny/interesting with Ellie and Awesome, or Morgan, or the BuyMorons, etc. I will try my best to do this in my writing as well. 6. Without giving too much away, the major themes I hope to explore in this story are: Choice, Chuck and Sarah's relationship, Family/Reconciliation, and Sarah's growing disenfranchisement with the spy life, and learning how to be "normal" (if there is such a thing).**

**I hope you will like my writing and continue to read. I am rather happy with this chapter, overall, even if it is my first real crack at writing "action" sequences. I hope I didn't do too poorly. As always, comments are love. Happy reading.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Chuck vs The Birthday <strong>

**Casa Bartowski**

**Burbank, CA**

**2100 PST **

It had been just over two months since their "conversation" in the interrogation room when they had finally decided to really be together. Just over two months since they had finally given into their feelings and, rather than let them destroy each other, decided to finally give themselves a chance at really being together, at being happy, and perhaps, someday, even a real future together. And they had been two of the most fulfilling – both professionally _and_ personally – months Sarah could remember. They were some of the happiest months she could remember having in a very long time. She was, on the whole, very happy and very content. And all because she had taken a chance, and gambled on the sweetest, most wonderful, most caring – if altogether too nerdy for his own good – man she had ever met. She had, for the first time in forever, made a selfish decision and thought of her own happiness before the greater good, for once, and as far as she was concerned, her gamble had paid off in dividends.

They had been taking things slowly. Or at least, as slowly as two people who had been dating all but officially for nearly the past two years could. It was extremely important, for both of them, that they took the time to build a strong, understanding foundation for their relationship, and that meant going as slowly as they both could tolerate. Especially considering the complications inherent in their particular situation, they both had an unspoken understanding that they would rather go slowly, and build something that would work, long term, than something passionate, but short, that would end badly.

Neither of them were, of course, under the impression that one passionate, emotional discussion would solve all of their issues as far as relationships in general, and their relationship with each other in particular, were concerned. They were not naive by any means, and they were both going into this with their eyes open. They both, and especially Sarah, knew that sometimes it would be hard, and there would be difficulties and misunderstandings and fights. But she also knew that if they had each other, it would all work out in the end.

So they had decided to take things slowly. At least, slowly for a couple who had been essentially dating for almost two years, at any rate. After all, they had come to an unspoken agreement that they would count their cover relationship as part of their real one, as it seemed wrong not to. After all, they had spent so much time during their cover relationship getting to know each other, growing close and blurring the lines of emotional attachment to bring them to the point where they currently found themselves anyway, so it seemed silly to arbitrarily not count it as part of their relationship.

Of course, taking it slow didn't mean that their relationship was any less physical than anyone might expect a young couple who were dating as long as they had been, and who were very much in love, to be. Sarah spent the night at Chuck's if not _most_ nights, then certainly more nights than she spent at her own place, and they certainly were not afraid to express themselves physically or explore themselves sexually, most nights multiple times. After all, after almost two years of having any physical expression of their feelings being officially _verboten_ it seemed almost counter-productive, and certainly needless torture, to deny themselves now. Especially something from which they both took a great amount of pleasure – and not just in the expected way – from. It was like that first time in the interrogation room, and then that first night back at Chuck's had broken a dam that had been straining for ages to hold back a swift-flowing river, and now that the dam was broken, there was no way it was getting rebuilt.

The sex was only part of the equation, though. An equally important – and some might argue, even more important – element of their physical relationship was their non-sexual physical intimacy. The little things, like holding hands. Like the fact that Sarah felt more comfortable doing things like running her fingers through his hair, or straightening the creases on his shirt or helping him to do up his tie than she had before. The fact that Chuck and Sarah would both try to find any sort of excuse to be physically close, and preferrably touching in some way. Like how Chuck would often find excuses to touch her arms, or her shoulders, hips, or the small of her back, and his touch would always linger, just a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary. And the kissing, which was both frequent and varied.

Or the fact that if anyone had been paying attention – and thankfully, nobody was because the only other person around them in such proximity was Casey, and as long as the missions still were completed successfully and there was no reason for his superiors to come down on his ass, Casey, in his own words, "couldn't give a flying fart in space who was doing what with whom on their own time" – would notice that Chuck and Sarah would sometimes even covertly hold hands, or at least touch, in some way, in Castle, or that whereas before they would usually stand or sit on opposite sides of Casey during briefings, now they would always stand or sit next to each other. Sometimes, dangerously closely, though always far enough apart to not arouse suspicion. After all, Sarah was happy – perhaps even deliriously so – at the current turn of events, and was willing to fight for what they had finally allowed themselves to have, if need be, but that didn't mean she was stupid or wanted to go shouting alarm bells to the brass, either.

So they were taking things slowly...ish. To them, however, that didn't mean refraining from a physical, or otherwise mature, relationship, or arbitrarily set limits on themselves, as they were both very clearly in love and wanted this relationship to work. And because of that, for them, that meant, more than anything else, not rushing headlong into things, into commitments that they knew they weren't yet ready for like marriage and children and a house in the suburbs, or anything else besides; because they both knew that if things worked out as they both were clearly hoping for, they would have all the time in the world to have those things, and they both wanted to enjoy this time that they had in the here and now, just getting to know each other better, building a strong foundation. A foundation which, hopefully, would someday form the base of a life built together. Someday.

Whilst they were both content to not rush into things, the idea of taking things slowly, as such, didn't seem nearly as important to Sarah now, even so relatively soon. Yes, it was far too soon for her to be seriously thinking about settling down, getting married, and having Chuck's babies or anything remotely similar; she wasn't anywhere near ready for that, and truthfully, neither was he – it was, generally speaking, quite far in the back of her mind, and frankly she was surprised at how often the subject came up in her own thoughts, when not even a year ago she would have thought she'd never even have that luxury; she chalked it up to all the wedding fever that had all but consumed Casa Bartowski as of late – but she knew that she was all in.

She didn't see a future for herself with anyone else, and likewise couldn't see an image of her future in which Chuck was not a part. She was at least able to admit that to herself. Baby steps, after all. It would of course take time for her to be able to be comfortable enough to tell _him_ that, and that made her sad that her own ghosts and insecurities kept her from being able to truly connect and give him the things he needed most from her, but she knew that slowly, in time, it would happen. She _would _get there, eventually. That was rather the point of this whole "not rushing headlong into anything" thing that they were doing. But now she knew, for herself at least, that they had all the time in the world. Because she wasn't leaving him, not now, not ever. Not Graham, not Beckman, not the CIA, not the NSA, not the entire combined strength of the entire United States Government, not anyone would keep them apart. She was his, and he was hers, and they were together to stay.

And so they found themselves engaged in what was quickly becoming one of her favourite activities: curled up on the couch at Casa Bartowski, Chuck's head resting in her lap as she ran her fingers through his thick brown curls, as they watched tv. It wasn't that she was a particularly "homebody" sort of person – she loved going out and exploring and _doing_ things – and in actual fact, contrary to popular opinion, so did Chuck. They often went out, to dinner at various restaurants around the area, to cool bars, to museums,the zoo, the pier, to the beach in Malibu, and everything and anything in between. But despite it all, some of the more "honebody" activities were actually becoming her favourites; it was such a normal, mundane thing to do, and she liked that. She liked normal. Even though she knew that neither she or he would ever be completely "normal" she liked the idea of them being able to be "normal-ish", despite everything. She didn't know if that was in spite of, or because of, her globetrotting adventures in the spy world, but regardless, she and Chuck both quite enjoyed coming back to Casa Bartowski and just curling up together on the couch and watching tv or a movie, or listening to music, or even just talking.

Of course she still loved a good night on the town, especially dancing in night clubs, but she had quickly realised that that was more of a "her-and-Ellie" activity, rather than a "her-and-Chuck" activity. Despite the fact that the Intersect 2.0 had given him the ability to dance as good as any professional, Chuck was still her loveable, socially awkward, nerd who didn't get the appeal of putting on fancy clothes, waiting in line for hours, just to _maybe_ get into a club full of people who, on the whole, held far too high opinions of themselves, pay an exorbitant cover and even more exorbitant prices for drinks, in some kind of former industrial warehouse that played bad music where they could – barely – grind on each other for a few hours, and leave much poorer, not much drunker, and covered in sweat. She did, of course, have plans to eventually drag him out to take her dancing one of these days, because she _liked_ dancing and she wanted to show her man off, but until she could find a way to put her scheme into action, it was an activity that she and Ellie took part in, and left the boys at home to hold the fort.

Regardless of whatever other activies they enjoyed getting up to, either together or individually, they both enjoyed nothing more than going home – that is, Chuck's place – together, gorging themselves on takeaway, and cuddling up together on the couch with some kind of electronic entertainment. Especially in the middle of the week, when the more exciting things like cool bars, or nightclubs, or various other social events were basically non-starters. It was doubly the case as of late; with the fact that between his cover job at the BuyMore and his work as the Intersect, Chuck was basically working two full-time jobs, and all the craziness that came with helping Ellie with the wedding stuff, they were both often extremely tired by the end of their respective days, and watching tv or a movie together on the couch was about all the activity they could handle – not that either of them didn't enjoy it immensely.

And so, like most evenings as of late, they sat curled together on the couch, Chuck's head in Sarah's lap as she lovingly ran her fingers through his hair as the evening news came to a close. As it ended, Chuck picked up the remote control and began flipping through the channel guide looking for something else to watch – they were exhausted, sure, but neither of them were in any way ready to go to bed yet. Or, to go to sleep, either, for that matter.

As he flipped through the listings, Sarah saw something interesting that Chuck had immediately flipped past.

"Wait, Chuck, go back," she said, sitting up a little straighter and adjusting her position as she spoke. "The Big Lebowski is on"

"You like The Big Lebowski?" Chuck asked, trying to hide the surprise in his voice, and failing miserably.

"Would I have told you to go back if I didn't?" She asked, chuckling. "Don't look so surprised, Chuck," she said, putting her hands on his mouth and pretending to push up on his jaw, as if it were one of those comedic jaw-drop situations that sometimes happened in cartoons. "After all, The Dude abides," she finished, chuckling.

"Its just...I never would have thought you'd even _seen_ it before, let alone..."

"You know, Chuck, before I became a spy, and before I met you, I _did_ have outside interests and hobbies," she said, smirking. "Just because I haven't had the time to devote to them as you do..."

"I didn't mean it like that, Babe, its just..."

"I know, Sweetie," she said, chuckling at how cute he was when he struggled like he was currently doing. "I never said you did. But yes, I have seen The Big Lebowski before," she said, continuing, "its actually one of my favourites"

"I never would have expected that in a million years," Chuck said, smiling that trademark half-smile of his that she loved so much.

"Why not? It's a good film!"

"I know it is. Its a great film," Chuck readily agreed. "Its a cult classic. Its just that its, well, so...nerdy. I never would have pegged you for a nerd, Baby"

"I AM NOT A NERD!"

"You're right," Chuck said, chuckling to himself. "You're far too much of a beautiful, ass-kicking, badass, super-spy to be a nerd," he said, waggling his eyebrows in the trademark Bartowski eyebrow dance. Somebody was clearly in a good mood and had evidently gotten their second wind. He continued, "But you certainly have more than your fair share of nerdly qualities"

"Nerdly?"

"Yes, nerdly. An adjective referring to the state or quality of being a nerd," he replied, his eyes laughing at the back-and-forth they were having.

"With a reply like that, I think it is you, my dear boyfriend whom I love, that is the nerdly one"

"Oh, without a doubt," he readily agreed. "But I think you have much more nerdly qualities than you are willing to admit," he said, smirking.

Sarah leaned down and gave him a tender upside-down "spiderman" kiss. When they pulled away maybe seconds, maybe minutes, or even hours, later, she replied,

"Nerdly still isn't a word"

"Hey, if Shakespeare can make words up, then so can I"

"Delusions of grandeur, Sweetie?"

"Not at all," Chuck replied. "Just trying to get you to embrace your inner nerdliness. Besides, if 'google' and 'facebook' can become verbs, then I can make 'nerdly' into a word," he replied, and was met with a bark of light, feminine laughter from Sarah.

"Ok, so tell me more of these hobbies of which you speak," Chuck said, purposely affecting an archaic and overly proper manner of speaking because he thought it would be funny. And it was, at least to him.

"Well, when I was little, I used to love music. I mean, I didn't really have the opportunity when I was younger to really...find my own music that I was into, really, though, what with my Dad and...," she said, trailing off immediately when she realised what she had revealed. Or at least, was beginning to reveal. She had opened up a lot, much more than she had ever really thought possible, in an incredibly short amount of time, but that was one topic she was not ready to breach with him. Not yet.

Chuck, for his part, recognised her hesitance for what it was. He, too, had grown by leaps and bounds in the past two months. Whilst he of course – as anyone with the background he did would – had plenty of issues he still had to work on himself, and he was still far from the world's most confident man, being with Sarah in the way they were together now had done wonders for his confidence and self-esteem. It wasn't that he needed Sarah to boost his self-esteem, or that she was a kind of trophy by which he measured his own worth, quite the opposite in fact. But the fact that he consistently, day in and day out for the past few months had woken up, often in the same bed, with Sarah figuratively, and often literally, by his side, had boosted his confidence. Knowing that she was with him, that she _chose him_ and _wanted_ to be with him when she could, by rights, have any man she wanted, had helped him immensely in the ability to come out of his shell and roll with the punches – much like this one – much better than he would have done if all of this was still just a cover. He quickly side-stepped what had just happened in order to get the conversation on track as much as a way to show her that yes, he noticed what she did, and yes, he was okay with it. He trusted her to tell him when she was ready.

"Okay, so you didn't have much of a chance to find a lot of your own music when you were younger. And you already told me you didn't have much time for it when you were on your normal type of missions, but...what about now?"

"Well, like I said, I _did_ always love music. That never changed. It was just sort of...different. But now, its like, I can enjoy music again, almost like a normal person," she said, smiling happily, as she continued, "even though we both know that you and I aren't exactly the _normal_ type," she said, only partially joking.

"Well," Chuck said, playing along, "being normal _is_ over-rated, if you ask me"

"My sentiments exactly," she concurred. "But I have certainly been enjoying rediscovering how much I love it," she said.

"Any favourites yet?"

"Well, I like most of the stuff you've played for me, and Morgan and Anna both gave me some bands to listen to, too. Most of their suggestions were pretty good, but obviously, I didn't like everything," she said.

"Well, that's to be expected"

She nodded her head in agreement as she continued.

"Jeff and Lester even gave me some recommendations for music too," she said, "though, I'm not sure how they found out I was looking for music," she said, thoughtfully, as she continued, "or whether they understood exactly what I was trying to find either. Their recommendations were rather...strange. Like, I know that I'm not exactly the most knowledgeable in this subject, but there isn't really a band called Jeffster, is there?"

Chuck barked out a loud, hearty, honest-to-god belly laugh at that comment.

"Well," he said, deciding to hedge his bets. "Sort of. That's _their_ bad. They took their names and comined them to form the band name. You know, Jeffrey and Lester, Jeffster?"

"They have a band?"

"I think calling Jeffster a 'band' might be a stretch. I know you don't like them that much, but they are nice guys – usually – when it counts," Chuck said, by way of explanation, "but they're pretty out there, especially in their musical tastes. If I were you, I'd stay away from any of their musical recommendations, Jeffster or otherwise," he said, laughing, and Sarah readily agreed, joining him in laughter.

"Anyway," Chuck said, drawing out the first vowel of the word as a way of trying to get the conversation back on track.

"Oh, right," Sarah said. "I dunno, Chuck, I like a lot of what you play for me, and some of Morgan and Anna's recommendations I've really liked. I really loved the Nina Simone," she said. "Lately, though, I've been thinking a lot about that 'just lie here' song"

"What?"

"You know, the one that goes like, _If I just lie here / will you lie with me and just forget the world?_," she said, quietly singing the lyrics to the song whose name she couldn't remember.

"Oh, yeah, that one," Chuck said, brightening now that he knew what she was talking about – and also at the fact that he know knew not only that she had a beautiful singing voice, but also how she happened to remember and classify songs whose names she couldn't remember – before he continued, "its called 'Chasing Cars', by the way"

"Oh, well, then I like that song, Chasing Cars, a lot," she said. "I think because it reminds me of us"

Chuck raised his eyebrow questioningly.

"In a good way, or a bad way?"

"Definitely a good way"

Chuck paused momentarily, basking in the warm, comfortable feelings before smiling back at her, his eyes twinkling mischeviously.

"Wow, Sarah Walker, first a favourite movie and now a candidate for favourite song? I hate to break it to you, Sarah, but I think you might just be a real girl after all"

Sarah slapped his chest playfully.

"Hush, you"

After a few moments, she bent down again and captured his lips in hers once more, this time much more passionately, then the last time.

"I'm really happy right now Chuck," she said when they pulled apart again. And she was.

To say that Chuck made her feel good was an understatement. She loved the way he made her feel. He made her feel safe. It was, to be fair, a very novel feeling for Sarah, considering she couldn't remember the last time she felt honestly, and legitimately _safe_, let alone from the simple act of just being in someone's presence, but with Chuck, it was the case. Of course, all of her training and spy instincts scoffed at the very notion and scolded her constantly in her head for such doe-eyed, love-sick notions. She was Sarah Walker, a trained CIA badass. She didn't need any man to make her feel safe. She was more than capable of taking care of herself – if anything, she was supposed to protect _him_ and make sure _he_ was safe. In a very real sense, from a strictly professional perspective, the way he made her feel was dangerous. Because she knew that all the feelings she had for him, he most certainly reciprocated, and in some cases, even moreso. From a strictly professional perspective, she knew this made her job harder, because as much as she was willing to put herself in danger to make sure that he was safe, he would do the same for her. For Agent Walker, this was a problem, because her job was to keep Chuck – the _asset_, the Intersect – safe.

But for Sarah, the girlfriend, it made her heart melt and her stomach feel like it was doing weird acrobatics in her chest; despite the fact that she still wanted to be able to be sure that if she told him to stay in the car, he'd stay in the damn car. And to his credit, over the past few months, he had done _reasonably_ well at honouring his word. But the fact is, that he would, and did, break his promise to listen to her as a handler when they were in situations where he thought she was in danger. Or where he thought – and he was usually right about these things, damn him – he could help. To his credit and her – well, _Agent Walker's_ – constant chagrin, there had been multiple missions as of late where success had been clawed from the hands of defeat because he _didn't stay in the damn car_. And whilst her spy senses were telling her that this was a very Bad Thing, for the life of her, she couldn't bring herself to stay angry at him, because at the end of the day, it made her feel _good_. It made her feel _loved_. It made her feel _safe. _

And that was just how he behaved when they were on missions, to say nothing of how safe and protected he made her feel when they able to just be themselves. When they would watch tv or a movie on the couch and she would instinctively lean into him and he would wrap his arms around her, or how when they fell asleep, she always felt most comfortable curled into his body, with her head in the crook where his neck met his shoulders, and with his arms wrapped protectively around her. There were countless other examples besides, but they all had the same things in common: Chuck made her feel safe, protected, and most importantly, like she _belonged_.

But that wasn't it, not by a long shot. She loved how open he was. About his past – he had told her things, things about his past, about his family, about his hopes and dreams – things that she would have only dreamt of being privvy to only a few short months ago. But he let her in, without question, and usually without her needing to ask. Yes, there were things he didn't like to talk about, that were hard for him – usually having to do with his parents, somehow – and he certainly had his fair share of secrets and demons of his own to face, for sure. But she had no doubt that if she were to ask, he would "read her in" to those, as well. He willingly and freely let her into his life, wholly and completely, to whatever level she wanted, to whatever extent she wanted. And what was even more surprising, to her, was that she not only let him, but she wanted more. It was like she couldn't get enough; she wanted to know everything about him, all his quirks and foibles, everything that went on in his past, everything he hoped to achieve in the future; everything that made him _him_, and what made him tick. Only a few months ago, she would have never even thought having such a close connection with anyone, even Chuck, was possible, let alone that she would like it as much as she did. As clichéd as it sounded to her, even in her head, she thought she could spend her whole life trying to learn all there was to know about Charles Bartowski.

Of course, she was a little more hesitant to reciprocate and be open about herself, and her past, in particular, with him. But she was trying, and she was making an effort, and he knew that. What's more, he _understood_. Which was just one more quality of his that she was constantly amazed by, and made her want to spend as much time with him as was humanly possible was how understanding of her he was. Chuck just seemed, somehow, to intrinsically _get_ her. He _understood_ her in a way no one, not even her mother or father, had. Even on the occasions when they were having an argument, he seemed to just _understand_ her in a way that boggled her mind, but at the same time made her feel loved and appreciated like nothing else ever had.

But what she loved most was how much of a genuinely _good_ person he was. He was kind, and empathetic, and understanding. He always tried to see the best in people – in everyone, no matter who they were, even if they didn't deserve it – because that was just the kind of person he was. And she was thankful for that, because she knew that even though she still kept a lot of her past hidden from Chuck, she wouldn't forever. She couldn't. She could keep a lot of secrets from a lot of people, but Chuck was proving to be her kryptonite, in that department, so to speak. Of course, she was still far from the loose-lipped blabbermouths that seemed to be a family trait amongst the Bartowski clan, but she was already a far shout from the stone-faced professional she had been before she had met Chuck.

She knew that telling him some of her secrets would be hard, for both of them. To say that it was going to be difficult was the understatement of the millenium, she thought, and when she would eventually tell him, in bits and pieces, whenever that may be, she knew it would still require her to go so far out of her comfort zone that she wouldn't even be able to see it on the horizon. But she knew that she would do it, because she loved Chuck. But that didn't mean that the thought didn't terrify her. And that was one of the reasons why she was so glad that he was so kind, and so eager to see the good in people. It gave her hope. It gave her hope that, when she did eventually tell him of some of the things she'd had to do in her past – as part of her travels with her dad, and more importantly, as part of her duty – that he wouldn't judge her too harshly. That, aside from his death, was her biggest fear, after all. That she would finally let him in, finally tell him her past, all the horrible things she had done, and he would see her for what she was. A monster. A Bad Person who had done horrible things and justified them under the blanket of "in the line of duty", and that she was damaged goods, and couldn't give him the life he wanted – he deserved – and that he would leave her.

She knew, of course, intellectually, that he wouldn't. It was one of the reasons why she felt safe and comfortable enough to let him in as much as she had already. But that didn't stop that nagging, almost-paralysing fear from creeping into the back of her thoughts late at night. It was one of the many reasons why she was so glad he was such a good person, and loved him for it. He made her want to be a better person. A person he would want to build the life he dreamed of with, a person who would _deserve_ to have that blessed happy, mundane, normalcy with him.

Which of course, led her thoughts back to the CIA and her career as an agent. She did love being an agent. It was one of the reasons why she had continued on her career path, even after the first few major hiccups along the way, despite the fact that she was recruited when she was still a minor. She loved the excitement, the adventure, she loved the satisfaction that came with first solving the "mystery" and then putting a stop to the bad guys.

But she also knew that a spy life and a normal life didn't mix well, and certainly not the one Chuck wanted. Not one with marriage and children, and all that sort of blessed normalcy. Things that before she had met Chuck she had never even realised she wanted, having buried that part of herself in the deepest, darkest corners of her heart a long time ago, but which was now becoming more and more apparent that she very much wanted. Someday. With Chuck.

She didn't really know when it happened, though she thought it must have started relatively early in the time they had known each other, but his pure, unadulterated optimism about that kind of life had rubbed off on her. She had always wanted that kind of life – a permanent place to call home, family, friends – ever since she was a little girl and her parents had split up, and then she had to live with her grandmother, and then all those years with her dad, never putting down roots, never making any lasting connections or relationships. She had always wanted that sort of life, deep down. But first when she was on the road with her dad, and then after her recruitment by the CIA she had buried it. Deep, deep down in the darkest, most secret corners of her heart, and had buried it under so many cons and hours of CIA training that even she had almost forgotten about it. But being with Chuck, seeing the way he and his friends and family lived, the life that maybe, one day, she could have – it had stirred something within her, and the fact was, that she was now able to recognise what it was. It was the beginning of the end of her spy career.

She would of course stay with the Agency for as long as she needed to, for as long as the Intersect Project was up and running, for as long as she was required in order to keep Chuck safe. She _was_ the best, after all, and that wasn't self-aggrandising hyperbole either. That, coupled with the fact that she _actually_ cared about him meant that she was naturally the best protector he could possibly have. Not only that, but she quite frankly didn't trust anyone else to protect him; no one else could or would protect him like she could.

On the whole, however, she was becoming increasingly disenfranchised with the entire "spy world" in which she lived; with living in shadows and with deceit being standard practice. She was ready to see the end. Yes, she knew that she would miss the excitement of this job, but she had begun to see it as just that: a job. Being a CIA agent was her job, it wasn't her life. Not anymore. And whilst she and Chuck were still ages away from being ready to take the plunge like that, she knew that it was not nearly as far away as it might have seemed. And there would be a time, in the not-so-distant-future when her timidity would just be a fond, if silly, memory. It was time, she thought to herself, to start thinking of the end game. Of beginning to plan hers – and Chuck's – exit strategy. It would take time, and planning, but if there was one thing she was certain, it _would_ work out in the end. The CIA was her past, but Chuck was her future.

She knew that it would be hard, especially at first. It was going to be a long, and sometimes hazardous, road. She had been a spy her entire adult life. She didn't know how to be anything other than a spy. She didn't know how to be normal; how to live a normal life, keep a normal schedule, hold down a normal job, and do normal, mundane, every day things. It was going to be a very difficult thing to transition from being a spy, something which encompassed every aspect of her life, her entire being, to it just being a job for her, and eventually, to retirement and some normal job. She had no idea how she would do it, or what she would do with herself after the spy world. She knew she was going to have a fight – even if it was mostly with herself – ahead of her. But that was okay, because she was never one to back down from a fight before, and she wasn't going to start now. Because if there was one thing she was certain of, it was that her future was bright with possibilities that she had never even dreamed of before, and if it meant that in the end she and Chuck would be together, then it would all be worth it. It would be slow, and sometimes hard, but she _would_ do it. Because the alternative was unacceptable.

Chuck, for his part, looked into her eyes and smiled brightly. He learned very early on that if he wanted to get a feeling of what she was thinking or feeling, he had to look in her eyes. Sarah had certainly come a long way, in an impressively short amount of time, in terms of her willingness to talk with him, and communicate openly. But she was still quiet by nature, and still had a hard time saying, with her words at least, some of the things that she wanted – and sometimes needed – to say. But what she was unable to say with her words, her eyes would always be able to say for her. Her eyes said so much more than her words ever could.

This time, it was he who initated the kiss, as he propped himself up from his comfortable resting place on her lap and kissed her soundly. When they pulled away, they both smiled happily at each other in complete understanding.

A little over an hour later, the movie ended and their stomachs were sore from laughing. Her face flushed from laughter and with a bright smile on her face, Sarah once more leaned down towards Chuck and said,

"Hey Chuck?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you have any plans for Thursday?"

"No, why? Do we have a mission you didn't tell me about? Cos I haven't flashed on anything," he said, suddenly anxiously wracking his brain for something he must have forgotten about, "or, no...don't tell me we have to inventory the armoury again, Sarah, you _know_ how boring that is for me," he said, groaning.

Sarah laughed happily at his antics. Not that she found his discomfort funny, or anything, it was just he was so funny and so cute when he acted like that, and she couldn't help herself.

"No, don't worry, Chuck, we don't have a mission and we don't have to inventory the armoury," she said.

"Alright then, it looks like my schedule just opened wide up," he replied cheekily, and she smacked his arm lightly in response, which he countered by sticking out his tongue at her. They both enjoyed private time like this where they could just be themselves.

"Its just that Thursday is...well, Thursday is...my birthday"

Chuck's eyes were as round as saucers, and almost bugged out of his head.

"Your birthday? Like your birthday-birthday? As in the day you were brought screaming into this world?"

"That's generally what a birthday celebrates, Chuck," she said, laughing.

"Wait, your real birthday?"

"Well, its certainly not my un-birthday," she said. _Two nerd references in one conversation? Who are you and what have you done with Sarah Walker?_ "So unless you know of any other kinds of birthdays..."

Again, he looked into her eyes. And yet again, they said so much more than her words ever could. He smiled happily, touched that she was able to open up to him like this as she was, especially so soon, and especially considering how secretive about her past and her personal life she had been in the past before they were officially together. He smiled brightly, but then his smile immediately fell when he realised what, exactly, she was saying, and he started panicking.

"Wait, so, Thursday, as in like, three days from now Thursday?"

"No, in a week. Next Thursday"

"Okay, so...a week and three days from now"

"Yeah"

"...That's not exactly a lot of time to plan anything"

"That's okay, Chuck, I'd really much rather just spend the day doing something boring and quiet with you," she said, smiling coyly as she continued, "maybe get some sizzling shrimp?"

Chuck smiled, but raised his eye brow, sceptically.

"Its your birthday, Babe, we'll do whatever you want," he said. "Though good luck convincing your new BFF," he said, smiling happily, as he slowly sat up and got off the couch, and offered her his hand to help her up. She took the proferred hand, and happily followed him into his bedroom.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Casey was waiting for them in the courtyard.<p>

"You're spending an awful lot of time over here, Walker," he said, without preamble.

"Its good for the cover, Casey, relax," Sarah said dismissively.

Both she and Chuck knew that that was a lie; a strategic lie to keep their cover that their relationship was, in fact, still a cover. They both knew it was a necessary evil, at least for the time being, but that didn't mean either of them hated it any less. Those words, those five horrible words, had, over the past almost two years had become Chuck's least favourite words in the English language. He hated hearing them. Of course, now that their relationship was no longer a cover, the fact that he knew, at least, that between the two of them, the cover was no more, made it bearable. The fact that he knew that she really was with him because she wanted to be with him, and that at the end of the day, once they got back home – or, to his place, at least – behind closed doors, what she came home to him, and whatever happened between the two of them was real, made it okay; made it able for him to deal with hearing it – a lot more than he would have liked – in situations like this, and not have his insecurities rear their ugly heads. That still didn't mean he particularly liked it.

"I mean after all Chuck and I have been dating for almost two years, now. People would think it would be weird if I _didn't_ spend most of my time with Chuck, including nights at his place," she continued explaining. "Besides," she said brightly, holding up in her hand a bagel wrapped in a paper towel for easy consumption on the road which Ellie had given both her and Chuck on their way out the door, "whenever I stay over it comes with breakfast"

Casey just grunted before standing up from his seat on the fountain, folding up the copy of the Los Angeles Times he was reading, and began to walk towards the Nerd Herder without another word or glance.

The three of them had taken to riding in together – or, as far as their cover was concerned, "carpooling to work" – on the days Sarah stayed over. This had a few key benefits: firstly, there was less logistical confusion when Casey and Sarah didn't have to coordinate schedules, routes, transportation times and the like. Second, when they all rode in together, it was, overall, safer for all involved as it was much less likely for Chuck – or either of them, as well – to be snatched whilst en route. And finally, it helped to solidify their cover. It made sense for two coworkers who lived close to each other and were friendly, if not friends, to ride to work together. Especially with the economy what it was, and that their jobs were not the highest paid in the world. It made further sense that one of those co-workers' girlfriend would ride with them when she needed to, since she ostensibly worked at a similarly underpaid job in the same retail complex. And finally, it helped to avoid any awkward questions from anyone as to why Sarah, supposedly a shift-worker at the Orange Orange, drove a Porsche. Of course, they did also have plenty of cover-safe explanations for why she would own such a vehicle ready to use, if the need should arise, but riding in together significantly decreased the risk of that happening, and for that, they were all on board, even if Casey didn't particularly like it, and even if Sarah did miss driving her Porsche. It also had the unexpected – but happily hilarious, at least for Sarah – accident of convincing the other Buy Morons that both Chuck and Casey were more environmentally conscious than the rest of them and were doing their bit to "go green" by carpooling. This had led to the unintentional, and absolutely hilarious, consequence of Casey being "promoted" to the dubious honour of the Burbank BuyMore's "Environmental Officer", which never ceased to make her laugh, even weeks after the fact, when she reflected on it.

_It was a slow Wednesday morning and the Buy More had only been open for a little over an hour; there wasn't a single customer in the store yet, as was more-or-less typical given the time of day and what day of the week it was. Chuck's shift had started about fifteen minutes ago, but due to some traffic on the way over, and a longer-than-expected morning debrief from the previous night's mission, he and Casey were just walking in the door. Usually nobody cared if the two of them were a few minutes late; after all it was Chuck Bartowski, who was basically the unofficial manager of the Nerd Herd desk, and John Casey, the most dilligent salesperson on the floor. They were almost always given a bit more leeway than any of the other slackers at the BuyMore, but for some reason, that day something had crawled up Big Mike's rear end and had, apparently, died there giving him a particularly foul mood. _

_The minute the two of them were in the door – and before they had even managed to go in the back to clock themselves in – he was on them like a fat kid on cake. _

"_Bartowski! Casey! Where the hell have you been? Your shift started fifteen minutes ago!" _

"_Sorry Big Mike, there was a lot more traffic than we expected coming in. Sorry, it won't happen again"_

"_Make sure that it doesn't...wait, what do you mean 'we expected', Bartowski?"_

"_Casey and I carpool, Big Mike. I thought you knew that. Isn't that why we're always scheduled for the same shifts?" _

"_Actually, it hadn't even crossed my mind," Big Mike replied. "In case you hadn't noticed, I've got more important things to do – like running this big, beautiful place – than worry about who rides with who!" He said in his own, very particular, way. He continued, _

"_Why _do _you ride in together anyway, Bartowski? Is there something the two of us aren't telling us?"_

"_Huh...wha..." Chuck said, confused, before what Big Mike was insinuating dawned on him. "What? Oh, no. No, no. No, no, no. Nothing like that Big Mike. I mean, not that there would be anything wrong with that, if that were, but, no. No. No, no, no. I have a girlfriend, remember? Sarah? You talk to her like everyday"_

"_Ah, yes. Sarah, that vision of loveliness," Mike said, wistfully, before continuing. "What she sees in an idiot like you is beyond me" _

"_That makes two of us, sir," Casey said, speaking for the first time. _

"_Shut up, Casey, I didn't ask you! So why don't you tell me why you have to show up late, because you and Bartowski just have to ride in together, huh!?" _

"_Well, Big Mike, you see," Chuck stammered, "Uh...well, uh, you see...Casey and I live across the courtyard from each other in the same building, so...uh..."_

_Casey decided he'd heard enough of Bartowski's bumbling, awkward attempts at protecting their cover. _

"_Environmentalism, Sir," he said. _

"_Environmentalism?" Big Mike asked. _

"_Yeah, you know," Casey continued, hating himself every minute, but he had committed to this legend, and now they had to stick to it. "Going green. Saving the planet. Every little bit helps," he said, selling it. _

"_Environmentalism, huh?" Big Mike repeated. _

"_Yep," Chuck chimed in, supporting Casey in the lie. _

"_Good," Big Mike said. "You two just saved me a lot of work today. Thank you, boys," he added, smiling for the first time in this conversation. _

"_Big Mike?"_

"_Sir? I don't understand"_

"_Corporate has been on my ass for months about this new corporate 'Go Green' initiative they want us to implement," Big Mike complained, by way of explanation. "They wanted me to hold an all-staff meeting at lunch and to choose a branch 'Environmental Officer' to promote green initiatives and reduce energy costs, that sort of thing. I mean as if they don't realise that I have a store to run. An _electronics _store to run," he said, grumbling. "But you boys have just saved me the trouble," he said, at once in a much happier, typical Big Mike mood. _

"_Great," Chuck groaned, sure that Big Mike had meant him for that particular role. A role which he believed was important, to be sure, but one which he simply had no energy to do, as of late. _

"_Not you, Bartowski," Big Mike said. "You've got your hands full controlling those two idiots," he said, indicating with his head that he meant Jeff and Lester, who were off in a corner of the television section, flipping through the channels, apparently trying to get porn to play on all the in-store televisions, and plotting something that was clearly going to be equal parts stupid and dangerous, and possibly illegal. _

"_You've got more than enough to worry about, Bartowski. Congratulations, Casey, you're my guy," he said, thrusting a rather large document – at least thirty pages, Chuck would have estimated – containing what looked like spread sheets, into his chest. "Take a look at these numbers when you get a chance, and get me some ideas. I'm gonna go call Corporate and get those monkeys off my back," he said, walking away leaving the two men dazed in his wake. _

_Casey growled in response as soon as Big Mike was out of earshot. Chuck knew that that was his cue to leave, unless he wanted to be victim to some particularly inventive ways in which Casey could show his wrath. _

"_Well, have fun with that Casey," he said quickly over his shoulder, as he was already walking away towards the relative safety of the Nerd Herder desk._

_Later that afternoon, Sarah came into the store, as she usually did, to collect Chuck for lunch. _

"_Hi, Sweetie," she said, coming to him as he was sat behind the Nerd Herder desk, kissing him quickly, but tenderly. "Ready for lunch?"_

"_You bet," Chuck said, closing out of the internet browser he was using for not-exactly-work-related browsing in order to find ideas for a birthday gift for Sarah, due to the low volume of work they had at the moment. "Just let me clock out"_

"_Ok, whilst you're doing that I'm going to go talk to Casey. About carpooling for next week," she said, winking imperceptibly. _Gotta keep up the cover._ "Have you seen him?"_

"_Actually, I haven't seen him almost all day"_

"_He's in the back," Jeff, who had been lounging near the Nerd Herd desk, said. _

"_What? John Casey, on a coffee break? Has hell frozen over?" Sarah asked, laughing. _

"_He's not taking a break," Jeff said. _

"_No?"_

"_No," Lester, who had now come to listen in to the conversation, replied. "He's looking at the energy numbers for Big Mike, like the corporate tool I always thought he was."_

"_What are you talking about?" _

"_It turns out that Big Mike passed over your boy-toy here in favour of Casey for the store's 'Environmental Officer', or some such corproate nonsense," he said, making inverted commas in the air with his fingers. "You really dodged a bullet there, Charles," he added._

"_Wait, what?" _

"_Yeah, looks like Chuck isn't Big Mike's golden boy anymore," Jeff said. _

"_How does that make you feel, Charles? Relieved that you don't have to suck at the corporate teat anymore?" Lester said. _

"_Well, I _do_ still work here, guys, so that's probably a bit premature...," Chuck was starting to say. _

"_Ah, yes, and there it is," Lester replied. "I was worried this would happen," he continued. "You've gotten a taste of the power that Big Mike has, and now that he'd given it to someone else you can't handle it. Green isn't a very good colour on you, Charles," Lester said, leering. Chuck never could tell when he was being serious or joking around. _

"_But Lester, our uniorms are white," Jeff said, indicating his own white button down Nerd Herd uniform._

"_Shhh," Lester said, patronisingly to his friend. "Shh, buddy, no...I think you need some quiet time, Jeffrey," he said, leading the other member of Jeffster towards the home theatre room. _

"_So...what was that about?" Sarah asked, as she and Chuck walked out of the store, hand-in-hand – which she no longer let go of once they were out of the store – as they went to lunch._

_Later that evening, Chuck, Sarah and Casey were in Castle, prepping for their evenings' mission. It was something very simple and rather straightforward: a quick snatch and grab of one Anton Urishnikov, a Belorussian national who had connections with both the Russian mafia – most of whom were former KGB – and SVR, and who had become wealthy running a Russian domain-hosting server. It was suspected that he was using his connections and his legitimate businesses as a front for an international human trafficking ring, fronted under the guise of a mail-order bride service. _

_Despite the relative ease and straightforward nature of the mission, Casey had just emerged from the armoury and was prepping no less than four firearms. Chuck was eyeing him nervously as he spoke, _

"_You know, Casey, if you don't want to do that whole environmental thing for Big Mike, you don't have to," he said. "He isn't exactly the world's most attentive boss, and he's used to people slacking off, it'd be pretty easy to avoid it if you wanted to"_

"_No, Bartowski, I'm going to do it, and I'm going to do it well," he replied. _

"_Why?"_

"_A little something called pride and work ethic," he said. "Shouldn't you be ashamed that I have a better work ethic for my fake job than you do for your real one?" _

"_Hey!"_

_Casey growled in response. Chuck was learning quickly by experience that that particular growl meant that he should proceed at his own risk, so Chuck quickly avoided any further discomfort by side-stepping the question. _

"_Why do you care anyway?"_

"_Because, Bartowski, believe it or not, I am an environmentalist"_

"_You? Mr Reagan? An environmentalist?" _

"_Ronald Reagan was an environmentalist trailblazer" _

"_Yeah, if dismissing claims of acid rain as harmful to industry and de-regulating the EPA can be considered 'environmentalist', sure," Sarah said, coming into the main area of Castle at the tail end of their current conversation, carrying two large kit bags and putting them on the table. _

_Casey growled at her, but didn't say anything; he respected Walker, and more importantly, her service to the United States, so she was entitled to her own opinion, as wrong as it may have been. _

"_Like I was saying," he continued as if Sarah's quip hadn't happened, "Reagan was an environmentalist, and so am I. After all, if this planet goes tits-up, there'll be no more bad guys for me kill or animals for me to shoot," he said, in his oh-so-Casey way. "Just because I don't like wasting taxpayer money on useless, bloated, government regulation doesn't mean I want to destroy the planet," he finished. _

"_That was...very informative," Chuck said. "And very genuine, in an extremely disturbing and terrifying sort of way," Chuck said, as they finished their final preparations for the mission. _

_Casey again just growled. Chuck knew that growl. _Ah, number seven. _This particular growl Chuck was beginning to learn meant "Shut up if you know what's good for you, Moron". _

_With that, they grabbed the kit bags, left Castle, and headed for the van._

Soon enough, they arrived in the carpark of the BuyMore, a smile still on Sarah's face from her musings. This particular morning they arrived with plenty of time for their morning briefing with Beckman before Casey and Chuck's shift was to start. They hadn't been on a mission for a few days now, and so this morning's briefing was probably going to be short and brief, and mainly to remind them to keep vigilant and to report this evening with a status update. Nevertheless, they arrived almost forty-five minutes before their shift was supposed to start, so that they could leave themselves enough time, just in case there was more in the briefing than they had expected.

* * *

><p><strong>NSA Headquarters<strong>

**Fort Meade, Maryland **

**0200 EST**

Brigadier General Dianne Beckman was an impressive woman. She was equal parts tough as nails and sharp as a tack, and despite her small stature, she exuded an air of authority in her wake that left everyone she came into contact with no doubts in their mind that she was the very picture of authority. A woman in her position had to be. Anyone in her position – or wanting to be in her position – had to be, but this was doubly true for a woman. And she was exceptional in every sense. She was the first woman to be admitted to the Airforce Academy, from which she graduated top of her class. The first woman to be admitted to in-country combat roles, though back then they were called "combat support" for political reasons. She had one of the most colourful and storied – not to mention, successful – operational records of any field agent current or past, in the NSA, and she was the first female director of any US Intelligence service. She didn't get that way by sitting back and waiting for people to hand her things, or to trust that she would get what she deserved. She got to where she was by being the best, and by going out and demanding that people give her the respect and credit she was due, based on her actions.

She also got to her current position – and stayed there – by being able to see the big picture. By being able to see, and where necessary, manipulate, things for the big picture, for the greater good. By understanding, and being able to hold her own, in the volatile world of backroom Washington politics. She knew how the game was played, and was as good a player as anyone else. All of this made her a very dangerous, very valuable woman. As an ally, she was invaluable. And there was probably no worse enemy to have in all of Washington than Dianne Beckman.

And this was also why, after CIA Director Graham's suspicious disappearance – he was presumed dead, at this point, but there was no way to confirm this – rather than appoint a second co-director of the Intersect Project, to conform to its joint NSA-CIA remit, she was appointed to sole commander of the project. Which was why she was awake in her office much later than she would have liked, pouring over mission reports, surveillance footage, and assorted other administrative details and muttering under her breath some choice curses she'd learned over the years, directed at the as-yet biggest thorn to ever appear in her backside, one Charles Irving Bartowski.

Ever since the intersect had been implanted in Mr Bartowski's – a civilian, no less! – head, everything had been turned upside down and sideways. Her well-ordered, disciplined world of heirachy and order had been replaced by one in which some of the best agents at her disposal were wasting their time, and government resources, babysitting a civilian. And ever since then, and especially since she had assumed sole command of the project, she had spent an ever increasing amount of her time devoted to the intersect project and the exploits of what those in the know had come to start calling "Team Bartowski". Team Bartowski, indeed. Bartowski was, without a doubt the most undisciplined, argumentative, pain in her ass she had ever had the misfortune to work with. He always questioned her orders and instructions, challenged her decisions openly, and often directly disobeyed the instructions of one, if not both, of his handlers, leading to mountains and mountains of paperwork that, frankly, she rather wished she never had to deal with. Yes, it was true that through his often unorthodox methods the intersect team often clawed a successfully completed mission out of certain failure, and yes he was proving much more useful than had been previously thought, but at what cost?

And then there was Agent Walker. Chuck's primary handler and protector, CIA Agent Sarah Walker was another wild card in the mix. Dianne didn't know much about her besides her reputation, before she was assigned to this project. According to her reputation, she was a consummate professional, and Graham's best agent. In fact, in the intelligence circles, she was known as Graham's enforcer: always followed orders to the letter, no questions asked, and often accepted "off the books" missions for Graham, doing his dirty work that no one else would do. She was the best at what she did, which was complete missions, often employing her skills to dispatch numerous targets in any given mission. She was a cold-stone killer. So why, then, was she so seemingly open, empathetic, and caring towards the asset? There were numerous examples she could recall where, rather than simply force the asset to do as he was told, she talked to him quietly in private, after which he would always be more receptive to instructions. She seemed to care for his emotional and psychological well-being more than any other asset-handler relationship she had ever seen before, either in theory or in practice. And certainly much more than she should, by rights, need to be. This, coupled with the fact that she had only the loosest of authority over her, considering that they were part of two different agencies and had never worked together before, made Walker a wild-card. Dianne was, therefore, cautious. But she knew that something was _off_ in Burbank. Either Walker had fallen victim to Mr Bartowski's charms – and Beckman would admit that he _was _charming, after a sort – and had become emotionally invested and compromised, or she was just _that_ good. Even better than she had been led to believe. Either way, it was working, for now, so she would simply wait and observe before she determined her next course of action, but there _would _be action taken, eventually.

Beckman was a military woman, through and through. She understood the value and importance of hierarchy, chain of command, and being able to not only give, but also to follow, orders. And as the head of the NSA, the military branch of the United States' covert intelligence services, she was used to giving orders, and having them followed. This had been happening less and less the more time Project Intersect was up and running. This was the unfortunate side-effect of having the intersect implanted into a civilian, and having a primary handler who coddled him like Walker did. Yes, for now, their methods were working, and she couldn't rightly complain, too much. But it was the principle of the thing. Chain of command, regulations, these existed for a reason, and one of these days, something would go terribly, terribly wrong, and the consequences could be dire, not just for one mission for one team on one op in suburban Los Angeles, but for the greater good as a whole, and that was something that would have...catastrophic repurcussions, and not just for her career.

Of course, as the head of the NSA, she had one of the highest clearances in the country, behind only the President, more or less. And with this clearance, she had used it to gain information necessary to fulfil her role as commander of the Intersect Project, should the need arise. So she was well aware of Mr Bartowski's particular "lineage". He was the son of Stephen Bartowski, codename Orion. The best scientist the CIA had for decades and the creator of the technology which had become implanted in his son's head. Perhaps it was coincidence, or some sort of cruel irony, but she thought there was some kind of poetic justice to it. The son of the Intersect designer, who had been AWOL and on the lamb, running from everyone and seeing ghosts everywhere, was now the vessel for his father's invention. To say nothing of Frost. Given her clearance she knew all about Agent Frost and Project Isis, her "betrayal" – at least officially – and all that went along with it. The fact that even though she had gone dark and the trail had run cold almost twenty years ago, there were still occasional whispers or unconfirmed sightings of her whereabouts and activities, usually coming out of Russia or elsewhere in the former Soviet Bloc. No, this could be an opportunity. The fates may have given her the key she had been searching for for years without success in the person of the younger Bartowski. Perhaps she could find a way to use him to find Orion, and possibly even Frost. If she was really lucky, he would be able to not only find them, but make it possible to extract one, or both, of them. If she could get that out of him, then, perhaps everything else would be worth it. The big picture was what was important, here, and so she put up with the little things. For now, anyway.

Little things like Agent Walker's behaviour. Or like what she was currently faced with: the fact that she was being sent tampered surviellance footage of the Bartowski residence. Whoever was doing the tampering was clearly _very _good, because it was almost perfect. It was barely noticeable. To anyone who did not know _exactly _what they were looking for, it wouldn't even be noticeable. However, unfortunately for those involved, she _did_ know what she was looking for. She could tell it had been tampered with. Large sections of surveillance footage had been cut from the feed, she assumed to remove evidence of something. She had a pretty good idea what, too, but of course without the video proof, she had no evidence. There were large sections cut from both outside, as well as inside, surveillance, all of which was later expertly stitched back together almost seemlessly in order to appear as if it it hadn't been tampered with. It was, in fact, _very_ good. But the fact remined, that she could tell it had been tampered with. What she didn't know was who, or why.

It could easily have been either Agent Walker or Mr Bartowski, both of whom would have the necessary technical skills required to do so, especially if they were working in concert: Walker had the means to access the footage, and Mr Bartowski was more than skilled enough with technology to edit the footage. Of course, if this was the case, it would more or less confirm her suspicions of their daliance. Which Walker would also know, which makes her less likely to have been involved.

This left only two other options which she could see.

Option one was that Major Casey was somehow involved; this was an option, yes, but one which she highly doubted, as his loyalty to his country, the greater good, and the agency had been shown to be complete and unflagging. He had no motive and, by her analysis, no intention to sabotage his career in such a way.

Which left Mr Bartowski operating alone. Which was entirely possible. He was clearly smitten with Walker, and she had to admit that he _was_ a highly intelligent man who was capable of taking initiative and formulating plans when it suited him. That, coupled with the Intersect in his brain would have given him more than enough ability to pull off such an operation. Of course, she had no proof, so she couldn't do anything about it, even if she wanted to. But more important than that was that, if this was his doing, it showed that he had the potential to be something so much more than he was. Maybe he had potential in this business, after all, and all those taxpayer dollars wouldn't go to waste, after all. She'd have to wait and see, to be sure, of course. She'd have to observe him and the team more closely, but if here suspicions were correct, she might make a "super agent" out of him yet, after all. In which case his little daliance with Walker might even come in handy. Perhaps, should the need arise, she could use it for leverage for his compliance, if it was needed. Perhaps to get him to willingly enrol in Agent training, or any other of a number of scenarios playing through her head, almost simultaneously. Yes, it might not be the world's kindest thing, but this was not a career for those pre-occupied with kindess, or right and wrong. And even though she did like Mr Bartowski, after a fashion, in her own way, despite his _many_ faults, she couldn't lose sight of what was at stake. The big picture. The greater good. That was what was most important. If she lost sight of that, the consequences could be dire.

* * *

><p><strong>Castle<strong>

**Burbank, California**

**One week later**

**11.20 PST**

They had been called to Castle for an unscheduled briefing with Beckman. Apparently, Anton Urishnikov had been a harder nut to crack than they had expected, but after a few days of interrogation he had finally broken. And, according to the inforation Beckman relayed to them, he was a much more diversified bad guy than they had originally thought. They knew that he had run a human trafficking ring, and that he had connections to both the Russian mafia and SVR, but what they didn't know – and only found out through many sessions of interrogation – that he had his fingers in many more bad guy pots than that. Apparently he was, amongst other things, a "munitions importer" which was intelligence code for "arms dealer". And apparently, what he specialised in was very powerful, very dangerous, bombs.

Beckman had called them in to Castle to brief them on this turn of events. She was frustrated by this, mostly because all the leads they had on him had already been chased down and found to be dead-ends. They had no idea why he was in Los Angeles, what he was trying to unload, to whom, or for what nefarious purpose. Essentially, she had information, but it lead no where, which meant there could be no mission. They couldn't even observe him, since he had already been picked up, and if they released him, he would obviously know they were on to him and would throw them off the scent. Essentially, then, she ended the short briefing with an admonition that they be vigilant – especially Chuck – and that they report any new information, or if Chuck flashed on anything, to her immediately. It was, on the whole, unsatisfying for all parties involved.

Casey had already left Castle and returned to the BuyMore via the entrance in the break room, as his "break" had ended, and Sarah and Chuck were to return via the Orange Orange, as it would make more sense that when he "disappeared" during his shifts from the BuyMore that he was sneaking off to spend time with her. They had finished climbing the steps and were about to re-enter the Orange Orange, when Sarah looked in the monitor and saw none other than Ellie Bartowski walking into the Orange Orange.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, but loud enough for Chuck to hear.

"What's wrong? Do we have company?"

"Yes," she said. "But not the kind you're thinking"

Chuck just raised his eyebrow quizzically.

"Your sister is here"

"So?"

"So what's she doing here, Chuck?"

"Well...you guys are friends, right?"

"Right"

"Well, its probably something to do with that. I'm sure its nothing nefarious. If my sister were an arms dealer or some kind of bad guy, I'm sure we would have figured that out by now," he said, laughing.

His laughter was infectious. It only took a moment for Sarah to realise how silly she was being. This had nothing to do with the spy world. Their cover wasn't blown, neither she or Chuck was in danger, there was absolutely nothing untoward going on here. In fact, it was positively ordinary. Friends visited each other at work sometimes, when they could find the time off work, right? She thought to herself, and then, she remembered. Of course. How could she be so stupid to have forgotten? Ellie, her friend...no, her _best _friend, had made plans with her a few days ago to go to lunch. She had asked her what time worked best for her and everything. They were going to go to lunch, because Ellie had a few days off work from the hospital, after finishing a block of back-to-front 30-plus hour shifts, and she had told Sarah that she didn't know what she was going to do with herself. Sarah, in a moment of pure civilian thinking, had suggested that they go out for lunch one day, even suggesting that they could meet at the Orange Orange and drive somewhere together. It wasn't that Sarah didn't want to, or anything like that. Ellie _was_ her best friend – well, not including Chuck – and that was far from cover, since their friendship only really started blossoming after she and Chuck had had their conversation in the interrogation room. She wanted to go out and do normal things with her normal best friend. It was just such a new situation for her.

"That's right," she said, to no one in particular. "We were supposed to go have lunch today. You don't mind, do you, Chuck? You won't feel neglegted if I get lunch with Ellie instead of you today?"

Chuck just chuckled and flashed her one of his signature half-smiles.

"Why would I mind? I like that you two are such good friends," he said. "Go. Have fun. I'll spend lunch playing Call of Duty with Morgan," he said. "He's been feeling a bit left out lately, anyway," he said, smiling, and moving for the door to let them into the Orange Orange itself.

"Wait," Sarah said, putting her hand on his, stopping him from moving forward.

"What?"

Sarah moved in front of him, and mussed up his hair and undid his tie ever-so-slightly, and performed similar alterations to her own appearance.

"We can't just both walk out from the back now that she's there, it would seem a bit too weird," she said. "We should look like we were in the back fooling around"

"Well," Chuck said, smiling suggestively, "why don't we just, ya know, _actually fool around_?"

"Because if we started, I don't think you or I would be able to stop at just fooling around, Sweetie," she said, softly. "And as much as I wouldn't mind that in the slightest, we don't exactly have time for that," she said, smiling, and kissing him quickly, but soundly. When she pulled away, she was already opening the door, and whispered, "Follow me out in one minute"

"Hello, can I he...oh, Ellie, hi!" She said, brightly, walking back behind the counter of the Orange Orange from what, for all intents and purposes to the civilian customers of the shop, was the storage room in the back.

"Hi Sarah, you ready for lunch?" Ellie asked brightly.

"You bet, just gimme five minutes," she replied. "I bet its nice to finally have some time off, huh?"

"You could say that again," Ellie said, truthfully. She even _sounded_ tired. "Hey, Sarah, did you know that your top button is in the, uh, wrong hole?" Ellie asked, amused, pointing to the offending item on her friend's shirt.

She had a pretty good idea of the source of her friend's particular state of dress, which would also explain why she seemed distracted and slightly out-of-sorts, as she closed up the register and went to clock-out for her lunch break.

"My...huh...wha..." was Sarah's reply. Not missing a beat, Chuck chose that moment to enter the Orange Orange from the "back room".

"Oh, I see," Ellie replied, smirking happily at the two love birds. "Hi there, little brother"

Chuck, who was helping himself to some frighteningly brightly-coloured yoghurt spun on his heel at Ellie's voice.

"Ellie! Oh, Ellie, hey," he said, in his cute, rambling way. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm picking Sarah up for lunch," she said. Not one to waste an opportunity to needle a rise out of her baby brother, she continued, "you know, cos we're friends and we made plans to get lunch. What are _you_ doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"Oh, uh...you know, Sis...just, uh, getting some yoghurt," he said, lifting the dish in his hands as evidence for this claim.

"Uh-huh. So that's what the kids are calling it these days, eh? _Getting some yoghurt?"_ She said, smirking devilishly, as a matching shade of red crept up her brother's and best friend's faces, which made her laugh happily. She was really happy for her brother. And for Sarah. For both of them. They were so good for each other, and clearly made each other very happy. And that made her happy.

"Go back to work, Chuck, I promise I'll take good care of your girl," she said, shooing him out.

The drive to the restaurant was short. Sarah let Ellie decide the restaurant as she had a far greater knowledge and experience in that regard than she did. She chose a nice, but still casual restaurant that had an American menu consisting largely of burgers, steaks and salads, but with an ever-so-slight Italian influence. As it was towards the beginning of the business lunch hour the restaurant was still relatively empty and they were seated almost immediately and were just as promptly greeted by a server who asked for a drink order. Sarah looked to Ellie for guidance on this, as well.

She ordered a glass of white wine.

"Wine, Ellie? Its not even noon," She asked. She was not being judgemental in the least – at least, she hoped she wasn't, it certainly wasn't her intention – she just wasn't used to drinking wine during the daytime when she was outside of Europe.

"Hey, this is the first time in almost fifty hours that I haven't been at the hospital," she said, feigning insult, but really teasing her friend. "If I want some wine, I'm going to have some wine," she added, emphatically.

Sarah also ordered a glass of wine – though she intended to stick to only the one glass as she still had to have her wits very much about her – so that Ellie wouldn't feel bad about being the only one drinking alcohol. They also placed their food orders: a chicken caesar salad with an extra order of grilled chicken for Ellie, and a bacon cheeseburger with curly fries for Sarah.

"I can't believe you can eat like that and look like you do," Ellie said, clearly jealous.

"I wish I could say that its cos I work out a lot or whatever," Sarah said, conspiratorially. "It would make me sound so much...better...than I am," she said, chuckling. "And I do – but nothing like Awesome – but the truth is its mostly genetic. I guess that's one thing I can thank my parents for," she said. "And that's good, too, because I _love_ cheeseburgers."

Ellie laughed heartily at that response. Yep, Sarah and Chuck were like two peas in a pod, that was certain. Chuck's idea of a perfect dinner date was cheeseburgers or ten-dollar chinese dumplings. Not that there was anything wrong with either of those things, or that she wanted her brother to blow money he didn't have, pretending to be some sophisticated high roller he wasn't at fancy dinners, but for most women, those sorts of dates wouldn't cut it. Most girls she knew – which, granted, were mostly of a certain type, to be fair – liked fancy dinners where they had to dress up so they could show off themselves and their men as appropriate, and, since this _was_ LA, after all, be seen in the "hip" places in town. But Sarah wasn't like that at all. Of course she liked nice meals, but she didn't care how fancy, or very much not fancy, they were. Or how much it cost, or what the dress code was, if any. As long as the food was good, and she had Chuck as company, she had a good time, and that was all she cared about. And that made Ellie smile. She was good for him, and he was good for her. Not to mention, of course, she enjoyed having the pretty blonde as a best friend with whom she could do things like this lunch, or go dancing on weekend nights when Devon had on-call shifts, and a lot more besides.

Rather than comment on the oblique reference to Sarah's family – which was the first she had ever freely volunteered, obliquely or otherwise – Ellie ignored it, thinking it best to let the comment lie as it did. If Sarah wanted to bring the topic up, she would. She didn't want to make this fun lunch awkward or uncomfortable by forcing a topic which Ellie wasn't entirely sure Sarah was ready to talk about. Instead, she latched onto the cheeseburger comment.

"You and my brother really are meant for each other, then," she said. "I swear, if he could eat cheeseburgers every day, he probably would. Or at least switching off between cheeseburgers and burritos. I swear, he eats like he's twelve," she said, conspiratorially.

"I know, right? I mean, I love cheeseburgers and burritos as much as the next girl. And chinese dumplings. I've loved pretty much every restaurant we've gone to together," she said, giggling. "But at the same time, I try to get him to try something new like Ethiopian or Indonesian, or something like that, and he acts like I'm trying to get him to shoot a puppy," she said, laughing in frustration at Chuck's reticence to try some of the more exotic gastronomical options one could find in Los Angeles.

Ellie laughed happily at both her admission and the way she phrased her exasperation. Yes, Sarah was definitely good for Chuck.

"I remember when he was fourteen years old, god it must have been like his...freshman year of high school, I think? By that time it was just me and him, and he went through this phase where the only thing he would eat was cheeseburgers for like, three weeks. It was absolutely crazy," she said.

"No way," Sarah gushed, happily listening to Ellie's stories of Chuck when he was younger.

"Oh yeah," she said. "It was terrible. The house stunk like a burger restaurant for months afterwards, and for a ah...untraditional...family like ours, all that meat got expensive," she said. "Luckily Dad at least made sure that we had money, even if we didn't have him, so that was good," she said. "But yeah, after that, I don't think _either_ of us went anywhere near a cheeseburger for at least a year," she said, laughing.

"What finally got him out of his phase?"

"Jessica Stevenson"

"Who is Jessica Stevenson?"

"Ah, Jessica Stevenson was Chuck's first crush. Well, not counting the Mom from Family Matters, or Bo Derek. She never really gave him the time of day, of course," Ellie began, before correcting herself. "Actually, no, that's not true. She and Chuck were friends when they were younger, and they were still sort of friends then. But then around the middle of that year, puberty hit her like, overnight, and Chuck was lovestruck, and started acting all weird around her...you know the drill"

Sarah just smiled and nodded knowingly. Did she ever.

"So what happened?"

"She invited him to her birthday party. Her birthday party at a sushi restaurant. I told him ahead of time that they weren't going to have cheeseburgers, but he either didn't listen, or didn't believe me, or something. I don't know. But, from what I've been able to piece together from what he, and Morgan, and Jessica's older sister told me, he kept trying to order a cheeseburger at the sushi place. The chef got frustrated and yelled at him, Jessica called him stupid," at this point in the story, Sarah, who was up until now smiling and laughing at tales of younger Chuck, stopped smiling and emitted a very Casey-like growl. Nobody called her Chuck stupid. Nobody. Even if it was over ten years ago, and this Jessica-whoever was some nobody she didn't even know.

Ellie noticed this change in demeanour, and smiled inwardly as she finished the story.

"And the rest of the kids, except for Morgan of course, laughed at him, and he ran home and spent the rest of the night in his room. Wouldn't even let me talk to him. The very next day we both had sushi for the first time," she said, smiling fondly. "And the rest, I guess you could say, is history"

"Was she a brunette?" She asked, barely able to grind out the words without literally growling.

"What?"

"Was. She. A. Brunette.?" She asked, punctuating each word as it if it were its own sentence.

"Yeah, uh, I think so...why?" Ellie asked, confused and slightly frightened by her friend's sudden change in demeanour.

"What is it with Chuck and these _fucking_ brunettes who always break his heart?! I swear to god if anyone ever hurts him, I'll..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Sarah, calm the hell down," Ellie said, placing her hands up in front of her in what she hoped was a placating and calming stance – what she remembered from her trauma and shock class oh so many years ago – and spoke again, "Sarah, calm down it was over ten years ago. And yeah, Jill was brunette too, but..."

"And Lou"

"Who is Lou?"

"Not important"

Ellie thought that this Lou person very much _was_ important, but she recognised the tone of voice in her friend, and realised that that explanation could wait as long as it needed to. What was more important was reminding Sarah of the here-and-now.

"Fair enough, Lou's not important," she agreed. "But you know what _is_ important?"

"What?"

"You, Sarah. You are important. Yeah, these brunettes definitely hurt Chuck, but they also made him who he is today...they made him the man you fell in love with," she said, placatingly, and the corners of Sarah's mouth began to twitch. "And I know that you still have a bunch of insecurities about your relationship, and I'm sure he does too, I mean with our past and his history with relationships, can you blame him? But he's with _you_, Sarah. He _loves_ you. He didn't love any of those other girls, not even Jill. Not really. He really loves you, though, Sarah. Believe me, I can tell. Just like I can tell how madly in love with him _you_ are. You are both madly in love with each other, and _you_ would never hurt him, Sarah. And _you're_ blonde. So, let's, ah, forget about those horrible brunettes..."

"Heartbreaking sluts," Sarah muttered in a not-quite-soft-enough-to-not-be-overheard voice.

"...Yeah, sure, whatever works, Sarah. Let's forget about them, and just try to remember the here-and-now. We're having fun, we've both got great guys who we are madly in love with and who are madly in love with us, and...I think I'll have another glass of wine."

That did it. Ellie broke the spell, and Sarah was back to normal almost as quickly as she had "switched". As soon as Ellie finished, the server came and placed their food in front of them, and Ellie ordered another glass of wine. After which they spent a few moments in quiet silence as they tucked in to their food. Soon enough, though, Ellie spoke again.

"So, would you like to tell me why I had to find out about your birthday from my brother, when he asked for help getting you a gift?"

Sarah's eyes went wide as saucers. Ellie continued.

"You know, part of this whole 'best friend' thing means that we tell each other things. Confidential, secret things, even. Hell, you could even tell me things about Chuck – although in certain things maybe the less detail the better – and you can trust that whatever goes on between the two of us, stays between the two of us. You can tell me things you know. Anything, really. But _certainly_ important things like the fact that its your birthday! Come on, Sarah! Throw a girl a bone, here!" She chastised. "I mean, how do you expect me to get you a gift, let alone throw a party, with less than a week to do it in? Huh?!"

"Well, Ellie, you see..." Sarah began.

"And don't you tell me any of this, 'I don't want a gift or a party' nonsense. Its your birthday, we're going to celebrate. Okay, maybe not a big Bartowski party, per se, but _something_. You and my brother can lay around eating pizza and watching movies any day. We're going to do something _special_ for your birthday, and I won't take no for an answer"

"But Ellie...I really don't...but I...really, its not...," Sarah had been saying whilst Ellie was stating her case. Eventually, however, she realised that she was fighting a losing battle. Ellie Bartowski soon-to-be-Woodcombe was a force to be reckoned with. Maybe if she agreed, she could have some kind of veto power on something too big or crazy.

"Fine, Ellie," she said, not completely cheerily, but no where near as distressed about it as she thought she would be. "But nothing too big or too crazy. _Please?_"

Ellie smiled broadly. How could she say no to a request like that.

"Trust me, Sarah, leave everything to me. It'll be great," she said, as she ordered and received her second glass of wine.

"Speaking of birthdays," Ellie said, reaching under the table and fishing a bright green envelope out of her handbag. "Happy birthday," she said, handing it to Sarah. "I know its not much, but I hope you like it"

Sarah opened the envelope and withdrew a birthday card. She quickly read the card and its funny – if slightly lewd – message, and then saw inside the card was taped a gift card, and a reservation confirmation for two – she assumed it was for Chuck and herself – to a fancy new sushi place that had opened a few months prior to rave reviews. It was even one of those places which celebrities and "regular people" mixed and mingled in the same restaurant. It was said to be _that_ good. Sarah had mentioned a few weeks ago that she had always wanted to go to one of those types of restaurants and would love to try that one, in particular, but it was so expensive, and even if she wanted to, they would have reservations booked solid for months. There was no way she would get to try it any time soon. Or so she had thought, when she told Ellie about it; apparently, she now was in possession of a gift gard which could easily pay for enough sushi to feed both her and Chuck for a night, and a reservation for 20.00 the following Saturday night. Ellie was really amazing at buying gifts.

Before she could even say anything in response, Ellie left her seat and wrapped Sarah up in a strong hug.

"You're welcome, best friend," she said, before Sarah had even had time to say "thank you".

Twenty minutes and three more glasses of wine (all consumed by Ellie) later, they were finished eating and waiting for their bill.

"Sarah, I wanted to ask you something"

"If its if I'm okay to drive you home, the answer is yes"

Ellie giggled more than she perhaps should have. That was the wine talking.

"Noooooo," she said, extending the vowel for longer than she needed to. "Although, that is probably a good idea," she added, sagely. "But I wanted to know if, well, if you'd like to be a bridesmaid at my wedding? I mean, Chuck is standing up for Devon, and it would be nice if you'd be able to be paired together, and I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to, but I'd really like it if you would, and..." she was saying, starting to ramble, and only slightly slur her words, due to the five glasses of wine she'd consumed in under an hour. Boy, when those doctors were off the clock, they really were off the clock.

"Ellie, I'd love to," she said simply, hugging the older girl.

* * *

><p>That night's mission had been a complete bust. Six hours of observation and three covert sweeps through the area, came up with absolutely nothing to show for it. There was no sightings of any bad guys, their surviellance picked up nothing out of the ordinary, and Chuck had flashed on exactly zero things. All in all, it was a wasted night, and all three members of Team B were more than a little frustrated after the television which was used for briefings and debriefings in Casey's apartment went blank. Chuck and Sarah were heading out the door when Casey called out.<p>

"Walker, hold on a second"

After a few seconds of hesitation and silent communication between Chuck and Sarah, she paused in her stride and went back towards where Casey was sitting at his laptop, and Chuck continued out the door, to cross the courtyard to go to his apartment, where he knew Sarah would catch up with him.

"We have a problem, Walker"

"What kind of problem?"

"You and I both know the answer to that question, and also both know that neither of us are going to say it out loud for plausible deniability," he said, pulling a thumb drive out of his laptop and handing it to her.

"I'm going to change out of these clothes. Watch the files in the folder labelled 'tax returns 1997-2007'. Password is 'gipper', all lowercase."

When Sarah opened the folder she saw a collection of video files, named with dates and times, at least 20 of them. She opened and watched each one, in order. They were video clips that had been, aparently, cut from the video surveillance. They were all clips of her and Chuck in what would have been compromising positions – clips of them talking openly about their feelings, clips of them having sex, clips of their post-coital conversations, clips of them just being themselves at Chuck's, when they were alone, in positions and situations that would be difficult to explain as "part of the cover" to their superiors. By the end of the last clip she was very sure what she was seeing: evidence of Casey tampering with the surveillance video feed to protect Chuck. To protect her. She didn't understand why he would do such a thing – tampering with evidence, lying to his superiors – these sorts of things went against his very being. But in that moment, she was very, very glad that he did. She was so caught up in what she was seeing on the computer screen and the related thoughts swimming around her head that she didn't hear him when he came back down the stairs from getting changed. He only noticed him when he placed a glass of Johnny Walker Black in front of her.

"I've never been one for ladyfeelings, and I'm not going to start now, Walker," he said, simply.

"But why?" was all that she was able to get out.

Casey paused for a moment to collect his thoughts and then drank down the slug of whisky.

"Look, Walker," he said. "Partners protect each other, and until this assignment is done and over with, you're my partner, so I'm going to protect you. I can't say that I think whatever it is you two have going on is a good idea, and I think for most people in our line of work having these kinds of personal connections could only be a bad thing; it could compromise you, or the mission, or your ability to make the right call in the heat of the moment," he began.

"Sometimes it helps to know what you have to lose. What you have waiting for you to come back to," Sarah countered.

Casey grunted in a way which seemed to agree with her, begrudgingly.

"Maybe. Look, as long as what you two have going on doesn't affect our ability to do our mission, and as long as there's no reason for anyone to come down on me, I don't care what you two do in your own time," he said, echoing his position on personal privacy which she knew well. "Its none of my business. But between you and me, I think in this case, you may be right. Whatever the two of you have going on is working. Between you and the Intersect, Bartowski is becoming something resembling a passable agent, when he wants to be, and you're sharper than ever, and we've been nothing but successful. I think you picked a good one, Walker," he said. "But you also need to figure out what you're going to do with this, long term, and you need to figure it out soon, because I can't keep protecting you like this. Beckman isn't stupid, soon enough she'll figure out something's up, order a 49B, and when she does, things are going to get ugly, fast. So sort your shit out, Walker."

In that moment, Sarah knew exactly what they needed to do. They needed to find a way to be able to be themselves, in private – have some real time for themselves when they could just be Chuck and Sarah – away from the prying eyes of surveillance feeds, and missions, and supposed covers and everything associated with the spy life. They could run, of course, but that was not a decision they should take lightly. Not that they wouldn't be successful; she'd been creating and shedding identities since she was 11 – more than half of her life – and had enough cash stored away in various places and currencies, as well as enough safe houses in various locations to keep them hidden away until long after their trail had run cold, and then they would only ever be ghosts to whomever would look for them, if they didn't want to be found. But rather, she thought, that should be a last-resort decision. A fail-safe option to leave close to her – well, their, really – chest, in case shit ever really hit the fan. Also, she could use her ability to have them disappear as leverage, should the need arise. Also, running was so very permanent. And she knew how close Chuck was with his family and his friends, and how close she was quickly becoming with Ellie. It would be hard to just disappear without even having the ability to say good-bye. She wanted to find a way to figure this out that didn't require them to run, if at all possible.

There was another, much more attractive option. One which, if she played it right, they could even play it off Beckman to get it officially sanctioned. It was all a matter of the sell. Her spy senses immediately agreed and liked this alternate solution, which frightened her slightly. Not because she didn't trust her spy senses – she trusted them implicity for things where missions were concerned, and this _was_ mission related, at least partially. But this was a very big decision, and it wasn't one which she wanted to make as Agent Walker. She wanted to make this decision as Sarah. After all, this sort of thing was the reason they were taking it slow in the first place. But as she thought of it, she realised that she – not Agent Walker, not her spy senses, or her training, or her professional aliases – but she, for herself, thought more and more that it was a good idea. And more importantly, that it was something that she was ready for.

Sure, perhaps the means of coming to this decision, and the timeline wasn't exactly what she had originally pictured in her head, but life rarely happens the way you plan it or imagine it, after all. That was something she had learned a long time ago. As she thought through her options, she felt more and more comfortable with this particular option, and in fact was even finding herself excited.

Of course, there was also no small amount of second-guessing herself and fear as well. The way she grew up, living on the run with her dad, in and out of hotel rooms and sublets for the majority of her life, and more of the same once she joined The Company. She had never had a proper home before, not since her parents split up, really, and that was a very long time ago. She hadn't had any examples, or role models – unless you counted Chuck and his family – on how to have a normal life, how to live like a normal person like that. Settling down and putting down roots didn't exactly come naturally for her. And that thought frightened her more than anything else. Not the thought in and of itself, but rather the thought that they'd try, and she wouldn't be able to do it, or they'd mess up the good thing they had, and it would all fall apart. That frightened her more than anything.

She scolded herself for that kind of thinking. She was Sarah Walker, after all. She could do anything she put her mind to. And as she talked herself down from the fear creeping up her spine, she realised, as it dissappated rather quickly, that she was actually much more content with the decision than she had thought. Yes, she had some fears about that sort of thing, but who doesn't? But she had made a decision, and she was going to stick to it. It might take some time getting used to, and it would certainly require some effort on her part; what they were going to do was so far out of her comfort zone she doubted whether she'd be able to see it on the horizon. But nevertheless, she knew that this was the right decision. They were ready. She was ready. And, more importantly than that, she _wanted_ to. She was _excited_.

Honestly, truly, excited, as and for herself. It was perhaps a less-than-ideal impetus for this decision, sure, but she was sure that it was the best decision that could be made. And she was excited. For herself, as just Sarah, the real girl, and for Chuck, her boyfriend. This decision wasn't being made as a spy for a cover, but as a girl who wanted to take the next step with her boyfriend. They were ready for this step, going slow be damned. They were ready, and she was excited. Now, all she had to do was figure out a way to tell him. Or ask him. Whatever. It was with this knowledge and confidence that she stood up from where she was seated, poured herself another drink, raised her glass to Casey in a silent toast, downed it in one, and, after thanking him, left Casey's apartment.

She and Chuck were going to move in together. And it was going to be _real_.

* * *

><p>She had taken a bit longer than usual to get back to Chuck's, but that was because she had taken a taxi back to her hotel room first, in order to pick up her porsche, for an extemporaneous late-night date, just her and Chuck. Somewhere quiet, simple, romantic, and most important, nowhere near any of those pesky cameras or bugs. Finally, she had arrived back at Casa Bartowski, and was greeted with smiles from multiple Bartowskis and one Woodcombe from the couch as she walked in.<p>

"Hey, what took you so long?" he asked, standing up awkwardly from his sprawled position on the couch to greet her and kiss her.

"Oh, not too much, just took a bit longer closing up the Orange Orange than usual," she said, casually making sure their cover was maintained where it needed to be. "And I went back to my place to pick up my car, since you and Casey obviously left earlier than I did, since you are lucky enough to work somewhere with more than one employee," she said, laughing.

"I thought we'd go for a little drive, or something. Maybe a late-night date. Get some hot dogs or something?" She asked, kissing him softly, and giving him pouty eyes. Not that she ever really needed to use them on him, or would ever use them in an any way nefarious way, but it was good to know that if she needed to manipulate him on occasion for something relatively innocent, the pouty eyes certainly worked.

"Sure," Chuck said, smiling. "So, do I get to drive?"

Sarah replied with a deep, hearty belly laugh before replying.

"Uhm, no, Chuck. You're not even getting behind the wheel of Sasha until we're married," she said, not even realising the bomb she had dropped on the room – basically admitting to Ellie and Devon, and probably Chuck, too, if he hadn't figured it out already, that she fully intended to be with him as long as he would have her, and fully saw them getting married someday in the hopefully not-_too_-distant-future.

"And even then, you'd have to catch me in a _really_ good mood to have me let you drive her," she said, spinning the car keys around her finger as she threaded the fingers of her free hand with Chuck's.

"Come on, let's go for a drive," she said. Chuck readily agreed and followed her towards the door.

"Sorry for intruding Ellie, Awesome. Don't wait up," she called behind her as she practically dragged Chuck out the door and towards the waiting Porsche.

They had gone for a nice drive down through Beverly Hills and Hollywood, eventually ending up at Pink's hot dog stand. Sarah parked the car in a lot adjacent to the hot dog stand and waited by the car as Chuck waited in the queue to buy their hot dogs.

After about fifteen minutes, he returned carrying two hot dogs and two drinks.

"Okay, here we go," he said proudly. "Two world-famous Pink's hot dogs, with everything on it, and two cokes," he said, handing her one hot dog and a can of coke. "For you, milady," he added, feigning upscale propriety.

"Good sir," she jokingly responded.

For a few moments, they stood quietly, leaning against the bonnet of the car quietly eating and enjoying each other's presence. Soon, though, Sarah broke the silence.

"Chuck, can we talk?"

"Sure," he said, suddenly nervous. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Chuck. Trust me, everything's great"

"Sarah, you might be able to fool everyone else, but you can't fool me"

"I'm serious, Chuck. Nothing's wrong. Everything's great"

"Okay, then why'd you drive us all the way down here to talk?"

"I wanted a hot dog, Chuck," she said. He didn't buy it, of course. It was a lame excuse, and she knew it. "Okay, fine," she said, as she noticed his raised eyebrow. "But I promise its nothing bad, okay? Don't freak out"

"I promise," he said. "What's up?"

"I drove us out here so that we'd be away from all of those pesky cameras and surveillance, and we could be alone," she said. Chuck just waited patiently for her to continue.

"Do you...Do you...," _Come on, Walker, get it together_. "Do you want to move in together, Chuck?"

Chuck's eyes nearly bugged out of his head, and were as big and as round as saucers.

"Are you serious?" he asked, incredulous. "I thought we decided that we should take things slow"

"Well, yeah, we did...but...I think, maybe, that's a bit silly, don't you think, Chuck? I mean, we've been together for almost two years. And I wind up spending the night at your place most nights anyway, so I mean, its not that big of a deal, really. I think...I think I'm ready. No, I know I'm ready. Are you?"

Chuck smiled broadly.

"I am _so_ ready," he replied happily, grabbing her tightly and pulling her close to him, causing to her to involuntarily squeal happily, and attacked her lips with his own. When they separated several minutes later, he continued.

"Not that I'm complaining or anything, Sarah, and believe me, I'm really excited about this, but..."

"But...?"

"But, well, I'm just wondering if this is a _relationship_ thing, or a spy thing"

Sarah sighed heavily. She really should tell him the truth. If she hoped for them to be able to get to the place where they could have what Ellie and Awesome had, she would have to. She had to tell him.

"Its a relationship thing, Chuck. I promise. It is," she said.

"But?"

"But...I would be lying if I said there wasn't some spy stuff involved, too"

He looked at her with a look that made her knees want to melt and her insides turn to jelly; but it was also a look that definitely said, without him even needing to say the words, _out with it_.

She told him everything, explained the whole situation; she told him how in addition to being the next step in their relationship that she really, honestly did want to take, for them, not for any kind of cover or spy stuff, that it would make everything easier. It would shore up their "cover" with Beckman and their superiors at Langley, it would give them more privacy to be themselves, because since it would be her private residence there would be no bugs and no surveillance, and it would also help them keep the secret about the 2.0 safe a little while longer, at least. Since they had decided to keep the 2.0 secret from everyone else, at least for the time being, that was a primary concern of hers – of both of theirs – because they knew that if they knew about the new capabilities of the 2.0, they would try to manipulate him into becoming more than he was already, and neither of them wanted that.

"Chuck," she said, laying everything on the table for him, "I know that this sounds more to do with spy stuff than _us_ stuff, but I _promise_ you its not. I really want to do this, for us," she began. But there was a spy element to it, too, and she would be lying if she didn't think that was important as well.

" And when they find out about the 2.0, let alone you and me – and trust me, they will, eventually," she continued, "I'm worried that they're going to try to use that against you – against us – try to turn you into something you're not, something that it would kill me to see you turn into. I don't want you to become a spy, Chuck. Honestly, I don't want you to be exposed to this kind of life any more than you absolutely have to be. I don't want you to turn into the kind of person who lies easily, and has no problem burning people if he needs to, or even killing, if he needed to..."

"I wouldn't Sarah, you know that, I could never. You know me, I can't...I don't even like..."

"I know that Chuck. I know that because I know _you. _And I _love _you. I know that that's not the kind of man you are, and its one of the things I love most about you," she said. "But that doesn't mean when Langley find out about the 2.0 and about us, that they won't try to hold it over you – over us – to try to use it as leverage to get you to do things for them that they want, that...well, let's just say that aren't in your nature," she continued.

"I don't want that to ever happen, Okay? Yes, I need to you learn enough, and do enough to help us be successful at missions and to keep you alive, and I know that it must sound really confusing, me telling you two different things at once, but there's a difference between doing enough to help us keep you alive, and doing what you have to do and...changing. If you become a spy, it will change you, Chuck. And I don't want to see you change. I love you, for you, right now, for who you are. Intersect or no intersect. Being with you is the most wonderful thing I have in my life," she said, continuing.

"Seeing you, the way you are with me, and with your family, with your friends...its making me want to...remember...to...reconnect...with who I am. With who I was, before I, well...you know. Its one of the many reasons I want us to move in together. For _us_. Not just for the security, or whatever, or to protect our secrets from Beckman and Langley. For us. For me. You have to believe me that this is something that I really want, Sweetie," she said passionately.

"Its just that...promise me, Chuck. I need you to promise me. I promise I will always be here by your side to help you along the way, but promise me that whatever happens, you won't let it change you. Promise me that I won't lose _my_ Chuck"

"I promise, Sarah," he said, without hesitation.

"Good," she said, smiling broadly. "And believe me, its true what I said about moving in with you, Chuck. Yes, the added security for our spy stuff is icing on the cake, but I want to do this for me. For us. It will give us – me, especially – something real, something normal, to look forward to, to come home to, if that makes sense"

"It makes total sense, Baby"

"So, what do you say, Sweetie? Wanna shack up with me?"

Chuck grinned devilishly at her, gave her the patented Bartowski eyebrow dance, and began to once again attack her mouth with his.

They didn't get back to Casa Bartowski until very late that night.

* * *

><p><strong>The next day <strong>

**Castle**

**Burbank, California**

**0800 PST **

"Remember what we talked about last night Chuck," she said quietly as they walked down to Castle through the Orange Orange for their morning briefing. "Let me do the talking, and if Beckman asks you a question, just follow my lead"

The briefing was rather straightforward. Just a rather quick update on the status of the Urishnikov investigation, and the fact that at present, there were no leads, as the mission the previous night had come up with nothing. Beckman was just finishing up the briefing, ending with scheduling another observation mission for the night of Sarah's birthday.

"Actually, General," Sarah said, steeling herself for what she was about to do. "Chuck and I have a...previous engagement...that evening"

"A...you and the asset...what?"

"_Chuck_ and I have a social engagement"

"A social engagement? Is that more important than your job, Agent Walker?" Beckman asked icily.

"Well, General, its sort of...related...we're working on our cover," she said casually.

This piqued the General's interest and stayed her anger, which was what Sarah was hoping for.

"Working on your cover, Walker? How so?"

"Well, General, Ellie – Chuck's sister – has been much more...involved in our supposed love-life than we had originally anticipated when this project first began," she said, hoping to lie to the general so that she would believe that this was as much a burden on her, and hopefully on Chuck as well, as possible, rather than something that they were actually both looking forward to.

"What does that mean?"

"What you would expect...asking questions that are getting harder to answer, inviting me to more and more 'family' gatherings, things that are making it harder and harder for us to find excuses for me to avoid without arousing suspicion," she said.

"Which was why Chuck had the idea to tell her it was my birthday," she said. She had a feeling playing up Chuck's spy skillset in this case could work to their advantage. If she could make her believe that Chuck was helping think of ways to decieve his own sister for their cover, this might just work.

"Is this true, Mr Bartowski?"

"Yes General"

"Why her birthday?"

"Well, General," Chuck said, nervously doing just as he was told. He was following her lead, and sticking to the plan they had thought of last night.

"First, Ellie _loves_ to plan parties. Like really, really loves it. If you give her an excuse to plan a party, she's going to do just that. Second, we – none of us – have celebrated Sarah's birthday before, so its a blank slate. My sister doesn't know what Sarah's birthday is, so for all she knows, it really _is_ her birthday. And finally, Sarah has been letting herself get closer to my sister, as anyone who has been dating their significant other for as long as Sarah and I have been 'dating'," he said, making sure to play up the supposed falsehood of the relationship with inverted commas with his fingers, "...would, and Ellie likes her. Thinks of her as a friend. A birthday party for a friend who happens to be dating her brother is the perfect opportunity to shore up any doubts she, or anyone else may have, in the cover"

"And are there any doubts in the cover?"

"Well, only in the sense that we're almost too convincing," Sarah said.

"I was asking the asset, Agent Walker," General Beckman said sharply. It took all of Sarah's willpower to choke back the biting comment that was on her tongue about referring to her Chuck as 'the asset'. This was far too important.

"Well, like Sarah was saying, General, we're kind of too good at it"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean, we're a little too good at convincing my sister and her fiance, and everyone else that we're in love and have been dating for, what, almost two years now? Something like that?" Sarah was proud at Chuck's attention to detail. It was almost scary how easily it came to him, but she knew why he was doing it – the same reason she was. They had to sell this as best they could, and his feigned disinterest might have been the thing that put it over the edge.

"And my sister is _nosy_. I mean, I love her, and she means well, but she doesn't mind her own damn business. And when she sees Sarah and I and thinks we're so in love and have been dating as long as we have without 'taking the next step'," he said, again with the inverted commas with his fingers, "she gets even nosier. Asking why she isn't coming around to the events she's been invited to, wants to know and pry and dig for things, and there is only so many times I can tell her to mind her own business before she gets suspicious," he said.

General Beckman looked genuinely thoughtful. _This might actually work_, Sarah thought to herself. After a short pause, Beckman smiled almost imperceptibly and said,

"Very well," she paused, gathering her thoughts before continuing, "and very good job, Mr Bartowski. Perhaps we'll find a good use for you, yet. A very well-thought out, logical plan. Good work. Is there anything else you might need to shore up the cover better?"

"Actually, General, yes there is," Sarah said. _Now or never, Walker_.

"And what is that, Walker?"

"Chuck and I need to move in together."

All eyes in the room turned on her, wide as saucers. Casey and Beckman's were genuine surprise, and Chuck was a good approximation of his original shock – obviously different now – from last night. He _was_ a pretty decent actor, when he wanted to be.

"Say that again, Agent Walker?" Beckman said, her voice dangerously calm.

"General, you heard how Chuck said his sister keeps asking awkward questions of why he and his 'girlfriend'," now it was her turn to use the inverted air commas, "of almost two years haven't taken 'the next step' in their relationship. That next step is usually moving in together," she said simply.

"It should even work to our advantage, Ma'am," she continued.

"How so?"

"Well, with Chuck and I living in the same residence, he would have protection 24/7. Whenever he wasn't at work, or here with us at Castle or on a mission, I'd be able to keep a close watch on him, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid or get into too much trouble," she said, affecting an air of annoyance at her secret-boyfriend in order to sell her case.

"And because it would be my private residence as well, there would be no need for bugging the new residence, or constant surviellance, except perhaps the outside," she said. "It would save the government a lot of resources," she said. Those must have been the magic words, because Beckman warmed to the idea almost immediately after she uttered them, just as she knew she would. Beckman was the head of the NSA, after all, and had to keep in mind the Washington power politics involved with her decisions. Saving taxpayer money always went down well with Washington types.

"Okay, Agent Walker," Beckman said, cautiously. "Assuming I give the go-ahead on this, which I'm not saying I am," she said to clarify before continuing, "How do you propose to do this logistically? Have you already compiled a list of suitable apartments?"

"Actually, Ma'am, I have compiled a preliminary list already. I could send them to you now, if you'd like?"

This time, Chuck looked at her and the shock on his face was real. They hadn't had a chance to talk about this last night. The General simply nodded her ascent, and Sarah pressed the send button on her phone.

"As you can see, General, I think the best option for all involved is number one. It would be a very quick move, and since it is only across the courtyard from Chuck's current residence, the surviellance cameras already in place there wouldn't have to be removed or replaced," she said.

"Across the courtyard, what are you talking about, Sarah? You mean...what happened to Mrs Boghosian?"

"I saw a for rent sign in the window to her place a few days ago, Chuck, I don't know what happened to her. She's an old lady, maybe she died," Sarah said, a bit more harshly and coldly than she had intended.

She actually liked the little old Armenian lady who lived across the courtyard from Casa Bartowski, and she hoped that she hadn't, in fact, died; however the fact remained that her apartment was for rent. On the few occasions they ran into each other, Mrs Boghosian was always so friendly, and when she learned that Sarah was Chuck's girlfriend, and that she could speak some Armenian – however limited – she always tried to invite her inside for a glass of rakija and to stuff her to the gills with Armenian food. The first time she had accepted the offer, she was only allowed to leave after she was full to the gills and absolutely steaming drunk, and she had since learnt her lesson. But that didn't mean she liked the little old lady any less.

But she really wanted to have her and Chuck move into that particular apartment, more than any of the other options she had proposed. Chuck would want to talk about all this later, she was sure, but for right now, her focus had to be the mission. And her current mission was to turn Beckman supportive of this particular move.

After a few moments of deliberation and looking over the list sent to her by Sarah, General Beckman spoke again.

"Very well, Agent Walker, Mr Bartowski. You may proceed with this plan as presented, pending funding approval, but I forsee no problems," she said. After then addressing the scheduling problem with the next stake-out mission and sending Casey to observe the night of Sarah's birthday alone, with all three of them returning the following day, pending no new updates, she concluded her briefing.

"If there is nothing else, you are all dismissed."

In that moment, both she and Chuck had the same happy, yet unbelieving, thought running through their heads: _I can't believe that worked_.

* * *

><p><strong>Thursday [Sarah's Birthday]<strong>

**El Camino Mexican Restaurant**

**Echo Park, California**

**19.30 PST**

Chuck was really happy the way Sarah's birthday "party" had come together. This was mostly due to Chuck's insistence that Ellie consult him on the major decisions (such as location, and guest list). Ellie had originally wanted to throw Sarah a big blow-out typical Bartowski-style bash at the apartment, but luckily he had talked her out of that. Whilst it might have indeed been fun, it was not what Sarah wanted. Sarah wanted something small and intimate; hell, if they were all being honest, Sarah didn't particularly want a party at all, but she certainly didn't want a massive Bartowski party full of people she didn't know. This was, of course, a feeling he knew well and could easily relate with. So, he had talked her down to an intimate night out to dinner with family and close friends, and maybe some drinks or a show afterwards.

Understanding that Chuck understood his girlfriend better than she did, Ellie acquiesced to his suggestions rather more readily than he had originally thought she would. She had even asked for his input as to the guest list, and more importantly, the restaurant, even though she was more familiar with the restaurants in town which would be best suited to this type of affair. But Chuck knew right away which restaurant would be best. El Camino. The restaurant in which they had their first date – even if it was a cover at the time, no one but them had to know that. It was probably one of the best Mexican restaurants in town, could easily accommodate a larger party such as theirs would be, and it had added sentimental meaning. Ellie had originally protested his rather unadventurous recommendation for a venue; until, that is, he told her that it was where they had their first date, at which point her eyes became suspiciously misty, and she pulled him into a tigher-than-usual hug, and told him it was a great idea. His input for the guest list had also been equally important: if left to her own devices, Ellie would have had a party of nearly 20 people, most of whom Sarah only knew moderately well, at best. Chuck, on the other hand, was sure that Sarah would prefer a smaller, more intimate gathering of just those people whom she was close with. And so the guest list was narrowed down to Chuck and the guest of honour herself, Ellie and Awesome, and Morgan. It had originally also included Anna, his on-again, off-again, girlfriend, but since their relationship was currently in an off-again state, Anna had declined her invitation.

And so, Chuck and Sarah sat quietly in the Nerd Herder, as Chuck had pulled into the carpark in front of the restaurant. For added surprise, Chuck had – after a lot of convincing – convinced her to allow him to blindfold her, so she could be surprised when they got there, for the duration of the fifteen minute drive from Casa Bartowski to the restaurant. As soon as the engine was off, Chuck removed her blindfold, because he could tell she was starting to get antsy, and more than a little annoyed. She didn't exactly like surprises, after all.

"Ok, we're here," he said, removing the blindfold.

"El Camino? Chuck, is this..."

"Yeah, this is where I took you on our first date"

Sarah didn't say anything but smiled a broad, 1000-watt smile that could have lit up the entire carpark, but which was meant only for him.

"I take it this was more your doing than Ellies?"

"Uh, yeah," Chuck said, chuckling. "Believe me, if I let her have your way, we would be having dinner at a fancy restaurant in the Hollywood Hills with a group of at least 20 people, most of whom neither of us knew"

"I guess I should be thanking you, for being my knight in shining armour"

Chuck laughed heartily at that comment. Sarah was certainly in a good mood.

"You can thank me properly later," he said, waggling his eyebrows seductively at her, before planting a soft, tender kiss on her lips. When they pulled apart, he continued, "for now, that will have to do."

Sarah smiled happily. Maybe this whole "celebrating your birthday" thing wasn't so bad, after all.

Chuck reached behind him to the seat behind him.

"I got you something," he said. "Its not much, but I hope you like it anyway. Happy Birthday, Baby"

He handed her a small box, about the size box jewellery such as earrings and the like normally came in. It was wrapped expertly in shiny red paper, which she immediately tore off. She was right, it was a box which jewellery came in. There was no mistaking that trademark small box made of thick, white, cardstock.

She immediately lifted the lid to the box and saw a small charm. It was small, silver, and shaped like a heart. At the top it had a small loop with a locking clasp which would enable it to be attached to the silver bracelet he had given her over Christmas, and which she wore at every available opportunity – in other words, whenever they were not on a mission – because she loved to wear it, and he loved seeing her wear it. With this addition to the charm bracelet, she now loved to wear it even more.

"I know its not much," he was saying, "but I mean, I only had like two weeks to shop and there's not much I can afford on twleve dollars an hour, and..."

"Chuck," she said, cutting him off. "Its beautiful, and I love it. I love you. Thank you," she said, proving her point with a kiss.

"Happy Birthday, Sarah," he said when they eventually pulled apart.

"Thank you," she replied, her voice slightly dreamy. She extended her arm which the bracelet was being worn on. "Help me put it on?"

"Of course," Chuck replied, picking up the item in question and threading the clasp around and through the links of the bracelet and locking it securely.

"Well, now that that's taken care of," Sarah said happily. "How about we go inside? I'm starving"

Chuck couldn't argue with the suggestion.

As it turns out, the party that Ellie had planned with Chuck's input had been the perfect kind of celebration. It was just close friends, and so there was little to no awkwardness or having to pretend to like someone when they didn't; the conversation flowed freely and naturally, and with the aid of several margaritas per person, was both louder, freer, as well as both more personal and more bawdy than would have otherwise been the case. With the exception of a few deep blushes from both Bartowskis and Sarah a few occasions throughout the evening, it had been a very happy, friendly, lighthearted evening. The food, as well, was wonderful, as per usual for El Camino's. As they were finishing their last round of Margaritas, a mariachi band took the stage to provide entertainment. Chuck, upon seeing them, in his semi-drunken haze thought it would be a good idea to get Morgan to ask them, in Spanish, to serenade Sarah something romantic for her birthday.

"Dude, you know I don't know Spanish," Morgan said.

"Oh, come on Morgan!"

"Yeah, come on, Morgan!"

Cries from around the table, echoing the words coming out of Chuck and Sarah's mouths.

"Dude, you know I love you and I would if I could, but I don't speak Spanish. You know that. We learned that the hard way in fifth grade, remember?"

At that admission, Chuck burst out in peals of laughter over a memory which he did not, in fact, share with the rest of them.

"Come on, Morgan. You're like the worst Mexican ever. I thought you were a Mexi_can _not a Mexi_can't_," Chuck teased.

"Oh, haha, Buddy. Like I've never heard that one before," Morgan pouted. "I keep forgetting how mean you can be when you drink Margaritas, Bro," he continued. "You know, I don't really like Tequila-Chuck"

"That's okay, Morgan," a clearly intoxicated – but not to the point of sloppiness or losing control of her faculties – Sarah replied, giggling. "Because I loooooooove him enough for both of us," she said, purposely elongating her vowels far more than they needed to be in her speech, and then making a show of peppering his face – in particular, his cheeks – with sloppy drunken kisses.

If either of them noticed the "awws" and other similar sounds coming from Devon and Ellie, or the grumbling from Morgan, they made no show of it. The mariachi show had gotten the group in the mood for some entertainment and thought they might like to proceed to a bar with some live music. Sarah recommended they go to the underground club that Chuck took her to that first date to see a show, but upon further consideration – that is, they googled the club on their phones – they found out that there was a twenty dollar cover that night and no live band. So instead, they decided to head to a local "irish pub" that Devon knew that was in walking distance.

It was a nice pub, to be sure. And it was as close to authentic as possible in America, and certainly in Los Angeles. Or at least, so Sarah and Devon had said, and they were the only two people in their party who had actually _been_ to Ireland, so the rest of them took them on their words.

They had been there for a few hours, and had all had a few more rounds. They were all having a great time and enjoying the company of each other; Sarah, in particular, was really glad that she had let herself be talked into this. This was the sort of things normal people did; go out with your close friends for your birthday – and she liked it. She certainly liked rediscovering this part of herself, and that she liked the possibility of living this way, in the future. But in the here and now, what she liked the most was the possibility of another round of drinks, which Devon and Chuck had just returned to where they were sitting laden with; a round of beers and a round of shots each.

After a quick toast, it was down the hatch with the shots – whisky, of course – and then the beers. And that's when it happened. Chuck, who was still standing, had been scanning his eyes idly around the room, when it happened. He flashed. She couldn't tell who exactly he was looking at, but she could tell he had flashed. He had that same glazed look in his eyes, and the same slight unsteadiness on his feet. Luckily, she wasn't so drunk as to be completely without her wits and she immediately stood up too, embracing her boyfriend, hoping to play off what has happened as them both having had just a little bit too much to drink.

In his ear, she whispered,

"Did you just flash?"

"Yes...do we have to switch to spy mode now? We're having such a...goood...time...," he said, slurring his words slightly. He was a bit drunk, and so was she. It wouldn't be a good idea to do anything now, other than to take note of the name and then report it in to Beckman in the morning.

"No, Chuck, we'll just go home and sleep it off, and report it in the morning. Who did you flash on?"

"See the guy in the hat, with the tattoos and piercings in the small round table by the door?"

"The muscular guy?"

"No, the other one"

"Yeah"

"That's Seamus Mahoney. IRA sniper, at least 20 confirmed kills, leader of a division of the revived IRA that is breaking the peace agreements lately. Connections with both the PLO and Russian Intelligence. There's also something about a British general, and a hotel downtown. I'm not sure what, though. But uh, yeah. Bad guy. Bad, bad guy," he said.

Devon took that moment to notice that the two of them were still standing awkwardly as they had been right after he had his flash, and they were both apparently leaning on each other – Chuck because the flash combined with the alcohol had made him legitimately unsteady, and Sarah, because she wanted to make it look that way. Plus, it was fair to say that she was also more than a little drunk herself.

"Well, it looks like somebody's had just a little bit too much to drink tonight, eh, Bro?," he said, drawing them out of their conversation. "I think its time we get these two love birds home, what do you think?"

"Devon, honey, leave them alone, they're fine," Ellie was saying before she was cut off by Sarah.

"No, its okay, El. He's right, we're both pretty drunk and we both _do_ have to work tomorrow. I think a cab home would be lovely, thanks, Devon," she said.

"No problemo, girl-bro," Awesome replied. Apparently his frat boy nature became more pronounced when he was drunk. Kind of like how some people's accent become thicker when they drink, but with frat boy idioms and mannerisms.

Ellie called them a taxi, and after saying their goodbyes and receiving one more round of "happy birthday"s from everyone else, Chuck and Sarah left the bar, and after a short taxi ride, arrived back at Casa Bartowski to sleep it off.

* * *

><p>"Well, it seems that once again, you seem to have been in the right place at the right time, Mr Bartowski," General Beckman was saying in that morning's briefing. "That single flash has single-handedly given us a direction on the Urishnikov case," she continued, as various photos and copies of official reports appeared on the screen.<p>

"Seamus Mahoney was one of the IRA's top snipers during The Troubles, and is currently the head of the Derry Brigade of the newest incarnation that is violating the peace agreements. He has connections to the PLO, Russian Intelligence as well as possible connections with Iran and even Fulcrum. It was previously believed that he was barred from travelling outside of Ireland," she said.

"But then a few days ago, Interpol picked up suspicious chatter of travel out of Ireland on a possible fraudulent passport," she said, super-imposing images of Seamus Mahoney and a Canadian passport. "He supposedly arrived in Los Angeles three days ago, under the pseudonym Michael Johnson"

"Three days ago...that would have been after we already picked up Urishnikov," Sarah said.

"Indeed, Agent Walker. Which is why we weren't aware of the connection until the Intersect flashed on Mr Mahoney last night," Beckman continued. "Apparently, Mahoney used his Russian Intelligence connections to contact Urishnikov to arrange transport of...something. We aren't sure what. Whatever they had planned, it was airtight. Urishnikov didn't get picked up until he was sure Mahoney was in the country, and when he did, he was just co-operative enough on details that we wouldn't be able to connect with our Irish friend until it was too late"

"They were throwing us off the scent," Casey stated matter-of-factly.

"Exactly, Major Casey," Beckman confirmed.

"But it still doesn't make any sense," Sarah said. "What could the possible connection be? And even if Urishnikov is just in it for the money...what could Mahoney's target be? Why here in LA and not Washington, or even London?"

"An excellent question, Agent Walker," Beckman said. "Based off the data gleaned from Mr Bartowski's flash, it seems that the likely target is this man," she said super-imposing yet another picture on the screen. This time it was a British Army General in full dress uniform. "General William Hunstman, British Royal Grenadiers. Early in his career, he was in command of the Derry theatre of combat in the British operations in Northern Ireland, and is now head of the British-led task force on counter-terrorism," she continued.

"He is in town this week to speak at a conference held in a hotel downtown. This is the most likely target. The General has made a lot of enemies both early in his career, and certainly now, as well. This could be Mahoney working alone, or as the agent of a renewed IRA campaign, or it could be more sinister, with his connections to both the PLO and Iran, or possibly even Fulcrum, we are at this stage unaware as to who ordered the hit, but we are almost positive that this is the target."

"But what's the connection with Urishnikov? What's he got to do with all of this?" Chuck asked.

"Marksmen, and snipers especially, are superstitious, Bartowski," Casey said. "He's probably having him ship him his gun"

"But why not just get a gun here? I mean, there are plenty of gun shops around, and if he didn't want to be caught on the radar, there's the black market, too..."

"Gun shops don't sell to foreign nationals, Chuck," Sarah said. "Its illegal and they can lose their liscence. And the black market guys won't sell to anyone they don't trust, and that would take too much time for his liking, I'm guessing," she continued.

"His gun probably is personalised, maybe some tricked out specs that he thinks helps him work better that he can't get from another weapon," Casey chimed in. "Which really means that he's not as good as he thinks he is, but it also means that could give us an edge"

"I still don't understand how this connects to Urishnikov, General," Chuck said.

"You don't have to understand, you just have to stop it," she retorted. But, she softened her voice slightly, realising he was just trying to learn so he could help. "The last shipment of Urishnikov's, according to a bill of lading, were intact computer servers," she explained.

"What kind of special conditions would that require, in your expert technical opinion, Mr Bartowski?" she asked in as non-sarcastic voice as she could manage. If he was willing to try to learn, she should try to help where she could. Her future could depend on it.

"Well, aside from secure transportation so that they don't get bumped around too much during transportation, a climate controlled, secure room clean of dust and human bacteria and that sort of thing would be best...," Chuck began.

"Which would also provide the perfect cover to smuggle weapons," Sarah said, catching on. "It would be locked and secured and so wouldn't get checked by Customs," she said.

"Plus the climate control would protect the ammunition and boring in the barrel to ensure that it fires the same here as it does back home," Casey said.

"So you're saying that he's smuggling a sniper rifle into the country as computer equipment?" Chuck asked, clearly aghast at the suggestion.

"That's exactly the conclusion we've come to, Mr Bartowski," General Beckman said. "And your mission is to recover the weapon and aprehend the sniper before he attacks the General at his speech tomorrow night"

"Me? Why me? Isn't this more of a...non-Intersect mission?" Chuck rambled. "I mean, what could I possibly contribute...?"

"Shut up and quit bitching, Bartowski," Casey growled under his breath and Sarah slipped her hand covertly and surreptitiously into his and squeezed, for the briefest of seconds, in order to comfort him, before removing it again.

"Normally, I would agree with you wholeheartedly, Mr Bartowski," Beckman said. "The secrets in your head are far too dangerous to risk on a mission like this. However, we will need your particular set of skills," she said, continuing.

"Under interrogation, Mr Urishnikov has revealed the nature of the security system which is in place on his shipment containers," she said, ominously. "In order to open them, it requires this," she said super-imposing an image of a hi-tech key on the screen, "a specially-designed key of his own design and which Mr Mahoney is already in possession of, as well as the pin code. We need you to help re-acquire the key, and hopefully a combination of the intersect and your own computer skills will enable us to input the right pin code, in order to acquire the weapon before Mr Mahoney does, and then to apprehend him in the process"

Chuck gulped nervously. He did not like the sound of this.

"So you remember the plan, Chuck?" Sarah asked as they went over the last minute prep before the mission.

"Yes," Chuck said, simply. He didn't like the plan. Not that it was overly dangerous to him or anyone else – in fact, in the grand scheme of things, he thought it was one of the safer plans, and he thought he had Sarah to thank for that – but rather because it involved him intentionally exposing himself to pain.

Upon learning that the pub they went to the previous night was actually an IRA front, they were to return again that night, using their "cover" of being boyfriend and girlfriend and order a quiet drink. Casey would be posing as a bartender and security. Once Mahoney made an appearance, Sarah was to go to the bar and let him flirt with her, at which point, Chuck was to make a big show of being jealous and angry, and intentionally get into a fight with Mahoney. This was the part he didn't like. Intersect or no intersect, 2.0 or not, it still hurt getting beat up, especially when you were intentionally going to get beat up. Regardless, this was the plan, because once that happened, Sarah was to play the role of the worried girlfriend, and pull the fighters apart, with the help of the "bartender" Casey; using that as the opportunity they needed to steal the key from him. At which point, she would make a big show of dragging him out of the bar, pretending to be angry with him.

It was, overall a very smart plan. He was glad that Sarah had been so thorough, and had been so considerate to his sensitivities and had outright rejected a seduction mission to get the key. Unfortunately, that meant that this was the best option in order to get what they needed. He was not terribly excited to let himself get beat up, even if it was for only a short time. But, he was willing to do what he needed to do to ensure they were able to do their job effectively and still be together, and if that meant taking a few punches here and there, so be it.

"Remember, Chuck, we're just playing a role. I'll be right there and so will Casey," she said. "And if you used the 2.0 to land a few good punches before he takes you down, all the better," she whispered conspiratorially.

Chuck smiled, and nodded.

"Thanks. I needed that," he said.

Sarah just smiled and, noticing that Casey was currently in the armoury – maybe he was giving them privacy, she didn't know – she quickly squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"Quick kiss for your girlfriend before mission mode?"

"I hate mission mode," Chuck teased.

"Chuck..."

"Fine, fine," he said. "Let's make it a good one. I just hope that my girlfriend Sarah will be able to take care of the wound I'm about to inflict on myself for Agent Walker," he teased.

"Always," she said, kissing him tenderly, but chastely. When they separated, they gave each others' hands a quick reassuirng squeeze, and then separated, because Sarah was now Agent Walker in mission mode.

The first half of their mission had gone very well. The only deviation of their plan had been that Chuck had, thanks to the 2.0, thrown more than a few good punches and had left the mark just as bruised and beaten – well, almost, anyway – as he was. Which was fine with Team B. And instead of Sarah grabbing the key when she was pulling the mark off her boyfriend, as had been the plan, Chuck had stolen it from his pocket when the Irishman had tackled him to the floor. There had been a few minutes of panic from Sarah when they were "kicked out" of the bar by Casey, the "bartender" when she thought they hadn't been able to get the key. But Chuck told her to relax and opened his fist to reveal the small, metallic device held securely in his hand. She had even broken out of mission mode to kiss him soundly, both as a way of saying thank you, and as a way to demonstrate how happy she was that he was okay.

But now they were back in mission mode, as they were at the docks, making their way towards Urishnikov's shipping container which contained the weapon, for phase two of the mission.

Chuck got to the shipping container first, and since he was the one who had the key, he quickly checked and made sure that Casey and Sarah were in position – ideally, they were hoping that Mahoney would come immediately to the container after the fight, if he was spooked – they were, in fact in their positions, and he slid the key into the slot with a soft click, and a hiss. A soft beeping alerted him to the second part: inputting the PIN code. But keypads didn't usually beep. No, that was new. Of course, due to his multiple experiences in these sorts of situations – far more than he had ever thought he would be in, before he downloaded the intersect – he had a good idea of what that beeping sound was. He turned his gaze to the source of the beeping and flashed, confirming his suspicions. It was a bomb. A pretty big one. He had just over 40 seconds to enter the PIN code in order to stop it from exploding. _Great_.

He quickly turned his gaze back to the keypad, and immediately a series of numbers and patterns flew through his brain, and all of a sudden, he knew the code. The intersect certainly did come in handy sometimes. Immediately he entered the code, and as soon as he hit enter, the beeping sound stopped and was immediately followed by the familiar hiss of securely locked doors unlocking. He immediately gave the thumbs up to Casey and Sarah, and then proceeded to open the door to the shipping container, swinging it open.

No sooner had he walked into the container, searching for the weapon that it was used to ship, using the intersect to search places he wouldn't have thought to search himself, than he heard a familiar, but unwelcome, lilting Irish brogue from behind him.

"I knew you had to be some kind of cop or something," he said. "I mean, a girl like that blonde, with a guy like you? It had to be a set up"

"Hey, now, uh...that's...thats really...uncalled for," Chuck said, turning to face Mahoney. "I mean, was that really necessary?"

"Strictly speaking, probably not," the Irishman said. "But come on now, we're both professionals here," he continued, "what would a girl like blondie out there – yeah, I see her, even after that fist you planted in my good eye – see in a guy like you? C'mon, mate, let's be realistic here. You should probably tell whatever agency you work for to give you a more believeable fake girlfriend," he said, moving into the container.

"Now, wait a second, hey, now...come on, I think that I...I...ya know, I've got a lot of very good qualities that maybe aren't so...immediately visible...," Chuck was saying.

"Yeah, like what? Girls like Blondie aren't into the whole nerdy thing, mate," he said, reaching into his coat pocket. "I mean, I will give you this, you held your own in that fight for a few minutes there, and you're one hell of a theif," he continued, withdrawing a pistol and pointing it at Chuck,

"And if you hadn't tried to stop me from doing what I came here to do, I wouldn't have touched you. Our countries have no quarrel with each other, Yank. But since you're here, and we both know what I'm going to do, and we both know you're going to try to stop me...I'm afraid that I'm going to have to kill you. So why don't you be a lamb and make this easier on both of us and don't try anything funny," he said, cocking the pistol and pointing it at Chuck's head.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Chuck said, withdrawing a tranq pistol from his own pocket.

"Is...is that a tranq pistol?" the Irishman asked, laughing incredulously.

"Do ye not even have the balls to threaten me with a real gun? Are you like a trainee or something? On your training wheels, are you?" He continued, laughing almost maniacally.

"The name's Carmichael. Charles Carmichael," Chuck said, adopting his Charles Carmichael persona.

"Well, at least you sound more like an agent now," the Irishman said, before immediately knocking the tranq pistol out of his hand and, rather than shooting him, lunged towards him, first pulled back, and landing a brutal right hook on the cheek just below Chuck's eye, making contact with a sickening crunch.

Pulling back slightly, Chuck flashed once more, and took a fighting stance, his lips turned upwards into the ever-so-slightest hint of a smile as he made his first offencive move of the fight, trapping Mahoney's arm and knocking the gun out of his hand and kicking it out of scrambling reach.

At the sound of fighting in their earpieces, Sarah and Casey immediately left their positions and tore, full-tilt, towards Chuck's, weapons drawn and ready. They arrived just in time to see Chuck both deliver – and receive – a blow to the face.

"Hands up, you're under arrest!" Sarah cried, gun drawn and trained on Mahoney, as she entered the shipping crate.

"Well, well, well, it looks like Blondie and the other one finally decided to join the party," he said, kicking Chuck in the chest, sending him flying; immediately after, Mahoney charged towards Sarah. Sarah met his attack with an immediate block and countered it with a kick to the chest. The fight went on like this, similarly matched and counter-balanced between the three assailants for quite some time. Eventually Chuck was able to scramble onto his hands and knees and, eventually, find his tranq pistol, after which, he got to his feet, hoping to get a clean shot. Seeing this from her peripheral vision, Sarah called out,

"Chuck! Take the shot!"

Chuck didn't have to be told twice, and immediately shot two darts from the pistol, to make sure that they took hold. Which would have been a good thing, if he had remembered to flash before pulling the trigger, which would have helped his aim and made him to remember to compensate for the fact that his targets were moving. Instead, however, it was Casey who wound up with two darts in his neck.

"You...shot...me...Moron," he said, before collapsing.

"Sorry Casey!"

However, whilst not what any of them were hoping for, it wound up being just as good as actually tranqing him, because the confusion had caused Mahoney to loose concentration and focus on the antics that had just taken place, rather than the fight. It was to be his undoing. Sarah saw the split second of momentary lapse of concentration as her moment of opportunity, and took it. She immediately delivered two roundhouse kicks in quick succession, the first to stomach, and the second to his face as he keeled over in pain. The kicks caused him to splay out on the floor, momentarily dazed, which was all it took for her to pounce on him, and deliver blow after blow until he was in complete submission, after which she easily flipped him over and placed him in handcuffs.

As they waited for the extraction team to collect Mahoney and his rifle, as well as to revive Casey, Sarah walked over to where Chuck was standing, admiring all the computer stuff that had been shipped over with the weapon. He was eyeing it with not-very-well-contained jealousy.

"Stop drooling," she said, laughter in her voice. "I don't want to have to compete with a computer for your attention," she added. He turned around to face her at the sound of her voice, and gave her a lopsided grin.

"You have nothing to worry about, Sarah," he said, grinning, and her smile matched his.

"I'm proud of you, Chuck," she said. "Shooting Casey aside, you did really well today"

"Is that Sarah, my girlfriend, or Agent Walker, my handler, saying that?"

"Right now, its both," she said, smiling, and wrapping herself into an embrace in his arms. He winced in pain.

"Oh, my god, Chuck are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"Yes"

"To which question?"

"Both," he said, chuckling.

She gave him a concerned once-over before quickly pulling him back into her embrace and quickly kissing him, before the extraction team arrived.

"Come on, let's get out of here and get ready to meet the extraction team. They should have a first aid kid with them when they arrive," she said, leading the way. She turned on her heel and conspiratorially whispered in his ear, "And when we get back to your place, I'll make sure I take care of you _properly_"

Chuck pulled away just in time to see her sultrily smirking, as she turned on her heel and walked towards the extraction team which had chosen that precise moment to arrive.

* * *

><p><strong>AN2: I know that in canon, the Mexican restuarant they first went to had a different name, but I couldn't be arsed to re-watch the episodes which say it, or look it up on the wiki, so just go with it, yeah?<strong>


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